


Overboard!

by write4good



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: (some of the themes have not aged well, Alex Danvers is also a repressed Lesbian, Amnesia AU, But it was Alex's idea, F/F, Kara Danvers is a liar, Kara Danvers is trying to retire from superhero work to focus on her family, Lena Luthor is a repressed Lesbian, Lena Luthor is married to Maxwell Lord for business reasons, Light angst and lots of fun, Shenanigans, Temporary Amnesia, They bond and help each other get their girls!, This is an Overboard!AU, alternate univers, based on the 1987 movie with Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russel, because the entire plot hinges on amnesia and lies, but angst first, but it's still pretty funny because Goldie Hawn sells it!), ships on ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 71
Words: 164,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22543504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write4good/pseuds/write4good
Summary: “Did it ever occur to you that maybe if you kissed me it might spark a memory?”  Lena demanded, clenching fists.“What?!”  Kara squeaked.“I mean, nothing else is working, and that thing the doctor said about my memory coming back on its own is complete bull—”“Lena, keep your voice down!”  Kara hissed nervously, afraid that their raised voices might make their way up to the nursery.“Make me!”  Lena snarled.--Snobbish and wealthy Helena Luthor Lord lived a (miserable) life of luxury and leisure with her husband Maxwell Lord, until she fell off their yacht and suffered amnesia. Taking the opportunity to rid himself of his demanding wife, Maxwell Lord left Helena in a mental institution with no clue as to who she is--until a complete stranger arrives claiming that (He)Lena is the wife of Kara Danvers, a widowed carpenter with four kids living in the sleepy little town of Midvale. As time passes, the Ruse becomes harder and harder to keep up, as both Kara and her friends and family start to see less of the woman who had fired Kara so heartlessly, and fall more in love with the kind and fierce woman she's become.--“If you’re not going to kiss me—kindly get off.”
Relationships: Alex Danvers & Kara Danvers, Alex Danvers & Lucy Lane, Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer, Kara Danvers & James "Jimmy" Olsen & Winn Schott Jr., Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Lucy Lane/James "Jimmy" Olsen
Comments: 267
Kudos: 780





	1. A Fresh Start

It was a quiet morning in the sleepy, coastal city of Midvale. 

At least, the city streets themselves were quiet and still clinging to the morning mists that rolled in from the harbor with the fishing boats in the pre-dawn, but out on the docks, there was a terrible commotion. People from Midvale, and the surrounding Bay area, had gathered together to stare in shock at the rather large and intimidating yacht that had appeared out of the mists. 

It was a marvel, and far too rich for any local blood. Even Cat Grant, the owner of no less than seven local businesses in town, including the town paper and local radio station, didn’t own a yacht. (Or, if she did, she was wise enough not to dock it in the shallow and inept waters of _Midvale_ , where the bottleneck entrance to the bay alone was a danger manageable only by the little skiffs and dingys the local fishermen used).

The local and regional presses were out in force, all eager for even the tiniest hint about the occupants of the fine vessel that was taking up well over half of the docking space—meaning that there were many local fishermen who were forced to wait just beyond the cliffs, unable to bring in the morning catch. 

It was an inconvenience at best, but none of the wide-eyed civilians in the crowds saw it that way. The yacht gleamed like something divine, and as the sun rose higher, it reflected the sun almost cruelly into their eyes. Still, they gazed on in wonder and amazement. 

“God, you’d think it’s 50₵ corndogs at the Bowling Alley or something—I haven’t seen crowds like this in a long time.” Alex Danvers muttered with a slight frown as she observed the masses gathered before the yacht at the pier. 

Beside her, her younger sister shrugged and set down a rather weighty toolbox so she could reach into her back pocket to produce a slip of paper. She squinted at it for a moment, humming lightly. 

Kara Danvers had a sturdier frame than her sister, and was dressed in her grease-stained jeans and a simple white tank-top that left her muscles bare. Her sister, on the other hand, was dressed tactfully in a black business suit, complete with a long sleeved blazer, all sharp edges and pressed seams. They could not be more different, one in fact being an alien and the other being an ordinary but exceptionally loyal and resourceful human, but the warmth between them was a testament to their kinship.

It was at least 85℉ outside, now that the sun had cleared the cliffs and was warming the sidewalks and pavement, but neither Danvers sister was sweating or seemed otherwise affected by the sudden heat wave. Kara, because she thrived under the Earth’s yellow sun, and Alex because she had grown accustomed to the heat on the coast in her fifteen years of service in Midvale. 

In fact, Alex carried two steaming cups of coffee. A necessity to start the morning off right for anyone, alien or otherwise. 

Kara straightened and adjusted the glasses on her nose as she squinted at the scrap of paper in her hand.

“Yep—that’s it. The _Imaculata_ , Dock Five.”

Alex made a face and gestured toward the docks with disdain. 

“Yeah, and Dock Four and Three and Two and One—”

“Alex.” Kara sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. Her hair was an incredibly curly mess this morning, set ablaze like gold in the sun. But she pulled it back from her eyes in a messy bun gathered at the nape of her neck, making the first thing that _popped_ about her her bright blue eyes.

“I’m just saying—I know you _think_ you really need to do this.” Alex stressed the word as she glared again toward the intruding yacht. “But something feels off to me…”

“Alex, I told you—it’s just a one time gig. Miss Grant said she couldn’t consider me for a permanent position unless I presented her with…what was it? A diversified resume.” Kara quoted as she gingerly took her coffee from her sister to take a quick sip. 

“Yeah well, Miss Grant can go snorkeling with a cement block chained to her feet.” Alex muttered. 

Kara chuckled and tipped her cup back to finish off her coffee. She smacked her lips when she was finished and handed her sister the empty container. 

“I think you forgot ‘in shark infested waters’.”

Alex’s eyes widened slightly as she tried to maneuver the two cups with one hand and retrieve her buzzing pager. 

“Shark infested waters? Really?” Alex’s large brown eyes popped as she glanced down at her pager. 

Kara nodded and adjusted her belt before bending down to pick up her tool kit once more. She liked the feel of the sun on her neck and shoulders. She liked having her tools in her hands. She liked the warmth of the coffee settling in her stomach. She thought it felt like the beginnings of a great day.

“Okay well—that was J’onn so I have got to go.” Alex said sadly as she glowered at the pager.

Kara fiddled with her belt, glancing down at her shadow on the asphalt. 

“Ummm—do you need…” Kara was not often reluctant to offer her alien abilities to her sister and the clandestine government organization she represented; but today of all days—when she was doing her best to appear _normal_ and to make steps to formulating a _believable_ normal identity in this town—it just wasn’t the best timing.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Alex interrupted as she shoved her pager back into her blazer inner pockets. She maneuvered the coffee cups into the crook of her arm so she could take her sister’s face in both hands. “You are incredible Kara Danvers, just remember that. Don’t let them walk over you…”

Kara rolled her eyes and huffed, trying not to let Alex see how much she needed just such encouragement. On the inside, she was all knots and nerves. She had moved back to Midvale for a fresh start and she loved being so close to her sister. But she also needed the job at Catco Construction. Moonlighting for her sister’s agency did not pay very well, and Kara needed something else. She needed it desperately. 

“Alex, I’m sure they’re not all that scary. We’ve faced down way worse.”

Before Kara could even begin to describe all of the incredibly scary extra terrestrial villains she and her sister had fought (and beaten, all with an endearing smile on her face, she might add) in their adventures, there was an unmistakable gunshot from the direction of the yacht. 

Both Danvers girls snapped their attention to the vessel, brown and blue eyes both blown wide in shock.


	2. The Lords on the Yacht

On the dock of the _Imaculata_ were several scurrying crewman running back and forth, eyes fixed on the sky. Many of them were dressed in impeccable white uniforms, all branded with the same insignia that appeared on the side of the boat, a rather large, cursive ‘L’. 

“Right-o, load up another lads!” A rather cheery voice called from the foredeck. 

The speaker cut a striking figure, and wore a naval uniform. He was not particularly tall, but was actually rather plain in stature, all straight lines and slicked back hair. He carried a gun, one that appeared much too large for him, and he exclaimed giddily each time that he shot at the clay targets the crewmen below flung into the air. His skin was rather burnt under the sun, particularly in the neck and forehead, but his eyes were protected by a flashy pair of aviators. He had a rather scruffy beard of a particular sandy brown beneath a nose that was as sharp as the edge of a soft rose petal. In all, he appeared rather ridiculous as he reached for a cigar from the case held open and ready by the butler standing beside the young man holding up the umbrella meant to shelter the blue blood from the ever brightening sun.

The hustle and bustle on deck seemed to freeze as the entire yacht shook with the slamming of a door down below. The crewmen exchanged nervous glances as they all rushed to stand in a formal line, all removing their caps to squeeze nervously between their hands. 

"Oy! What are you all shuffling on about? I thought I told you to—” The shooter called petulantly when he realized the sky was still clear of his next target, but he fell silent when a piercing cry rose up from the bowels of the vessel. 

“Maxwell!” 

Maxwell, the sportsman, groaned and dropped his gun down to his side, “Dash it all, Andrew, she’s going to—”

“I cannot, I repeat, I _cannot_ work under these conditions, Maxwell.” A woman’s voice called, none too gently.

The sharp clicking of heels on the stairs leading up to the captain’s galley caused Maxwell to throw off his cap in disgust. 

“I’m sorry, cupcake, but this is meant to be a vacation after all—and the whole point of a vacation is to leave the _work_ behind…”

A noticeable chill fell over the galley as a severely beautiful woman came into view. Her skin was pale and unkissed by the sun. Impossibly dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun perched precisely in the center of the woman’s head, adorned with glittering silver beads woven here and there. The woman wore bright red lipstick, a dazzling contrast to the paleness of her complexion, and her nose was _actually_ sharp—in fact, most things about her were sharp as she draped herself against the doorframe to glower at the man across from her. Her cheekbones. Her jawline. Her perfectly trimmed eyebrows. Her elbows. She crossed her arms over her chest, just below her breasts. Even the edges of the impossibly large diamond ring on her finger were sharp. 

She appeared ethereal, almost too sharp and too beautiful to be looked at directly. 

Even so, Maxwell crossed his own arms over his chest in a rather poor imitation of the woman in the doorway. The two glared at each other through matching pairs of aviators, as if they did not care enough to simmer and steam in true form, but required a barrier. 

“Perhaps _you_ can let your talents go to waste out here as you fry that big brain of yours, Maxwell, but _I_ cannot.” The woman said icily. 

She was wearing a rather extravagant gown, one that was silky and nearly translucent as it cascaded to the deck in deep, deep blues. It incorporated a low cut, one that delved deep enough to provide more than a hint of the breasts confined beneath the material. 

All of the serving men on the galley were careful only to give the woman a single look as they nodded in her direction before staring straight ahead once more…more than one crewman had found himself sputtering in the loneliness of open ocean for having gazed upon the mistress of the _Imaculata_ for too long.

“Frying my brain? What is this _nonsense_ , my dove? My mind is as sharp as ever!” Maxwell exclaimed as he shot a round into the sky as if to make his point. There was, however, nothing to shoot at, so the spent cartridge simply landed somewhere in the bay around them. 

The woman remained unmoved. She continued to glare at the man with the gun, her lips turned downward in a decided frown. 

“Dash it!” Maxwell complained, tossing his gun aside in anger, now that it was empty it was of no use to him. 

“You wouldn’t be bothered so much by _my_ fun if you found some other means of diverting yourself—and I don’t mean fiddling with those blasted engines, my sweet, you know we have _hired_ men to do all that…” Maxwell chided petulantly as the woman listened in icy silence. “I’m telling you, it isn’t natural.” 

Maxwell dug his hands into his deep pants pockets and strutted along the gallery rail. 

“What isn’t?” The woman in blue asked in a bored tone. 

“You! Doing—well, whatever it is that you’re doing down there with the _help_.” Maxwell illustrated. He had reached the edge of the rail and seemed to notice the crowds along the dock for the first time. A great cheer went up from the public below, and Maxwell beamed. He raised a hand in greeting and then turned back to the woman in the doorway who was observing the grease stains along her pale fingers with a critical eye. 

“Darling, come here! Come here, I want to show you something.” Maxwell suddenly called, eager as he dashed over to grab the woman’s wrist. He dragged her to the rail and wrapped an arm around her, pleased when the cheering grew tenfold. He waved and smiled, pleased to be on display. 

“You see, it’s all a system, my sweet, and we have a very important part to play in it.” Maxwell murmured lowly. 

The woman beside him had raised a hand as well, but that was more to shield her already shielded eyes even further from the brightness of the sun. 

“ _We_ rule from above.” Maxwell grinned and turned his companion ever so slightly so she could see the crewmen scurrying about once more on the deck. “And _they_ scurry below. _We_ dress like royalty—and _they_ do the washing. _We_ smile—and _they_ take a picture. It’s all fairly simple, my pet.” Maxwell had turned away from the railing now and was walking the woman back to the door, clearly about to dismiss her. 

“ _We_ live lavishly and they— _they_ fix the engines.” Maxwell said warmly as he put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. 

The woman recoiled away from his touch, her thin eyebrows shooting together. 

“A _Luthor_ does both.” She snapped. 

Maxwell rolled his eyes and stepped closer into the woman’s space, cupping her chin almost menacingly. 

“Yes, but you’re not a _Luthor_ anymore, my sweetest heart. Remember?”

The woman, the former Luthor, clenched her jaw, but offered no retort.

“Good girl.” Maxwell crooned. He patted his wife’s cheek without warmth. “Now, I don’t want to hear any more about you doing the repairmen’s jobs for them. I pay them too bloody much for you to get in their way.”

Maxwell crossed to take up his gun again. While he had been talking, the young man with the shading umbrella had dutifully reloaded it for him and it was a little heavier as he took it up again. 

“Then what exactly do you expect me to do as we idle away in these…alkaline waters?” The woman asked with obvious distaste as she glanced over the rail toward the people still waving and cheering and flashing photos of the large boat at their docks. 

“Well, I don’t know, my dear, do whatever you like. Read one of your magazines. Or better yet, go out on the deck and get some bloody sun. It’s up to you. Live lavishly. _I’m_ shooting skeet.” Maxwell emphasized this last point by shooting at the target that had been flung up in the air by the crewmen below. 

Maxwell cursed when he was not met with the rewarding shattering of clay that he so desired.

“Because you do that so well.” The woman muttered, unimpressed. The young man holding the umbrella let out a snort and Maxwell shot him a glare behind his aviators. 

“Perhaps, Mrs. Lord could oversee the remodel in the master suite.” The butler spoke up for the first time, clearly hoping to intervene before his master decided to throw the young shade boy overboard. 

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Lord demanded.

“The what now?” Maxwell Lord sounded surprised. 

“Yes, the remodel, my Lord. When we last put in to Marbella, you expressed an egregious distaste with the closets and cabinetry in the master suite. And now, given the improbability of our getting out of this… _fine venue_ , anytime soon, I took the liberty of sending for a carpenter to see to it while we are…stranded.” The butler intoned. 

“Excellent. Andrew, you are a genius.” Maxwell exclaimed, immediately liking the idea. 

Mrs. Lord appeared shocked, her lips had parted slightly and behind her aviators, her eyes were wide. 

"There you have it, my angel! As soon as this carpenter arrives, you can have your way with him—I mean, of course that you can order him about and generally degrade him to your heart’s content! It’s perfect!”

“Perfect.” Mrs. Lord repeated dully. 

“Now run along, my darling—I’m busy.” Maxwell called with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

He shot at the next clay target, and this time, he hit it.

Mrs. Lord stood frozen for another ten or so seconds before she closed her mouth and turned very slowly in place. She reached up very carefully to remove her sunglasses to reveal a pair of dazzling, ice-green eyes. She looked less than amused as she meticulously folded her sunglasses into her hand and glared at the old butler who had started to sweat a little under the sun. 

“I will remember this, Andrew.” Mrs. Lord snarled lowly. “This is betrayal.”

"What was that, my divine flower?” Maxwell called, turning slightly. 

But the doorway was empty and the chill had all but vanished. 


	3. The Closet

Kara had a difficult time getting through the crowds. 

She recognized many faces, but didn’t bother stopping to say hello. It wasn’t that she’d been spooked. The gunshot had only been some idiot firing at skeet from the yacht deck, which she was pretty sure was a safety violation, especially with so many civilians in the vicinity. It was because she too had started to get the feeling that something was off—just as Alex had said. 

She just wanted to get in, finish the job, get paid, and get out.

She heard snippets of the reporters muttering about what they were going to print, and it made her chuckle to herself. 

‘Forget Loch Ness, Midvale has their very own Monstrosity beached right here in the Bay…’

‘Royal Visitors to Midvale? Who are these happy billionaires?’

'Rolling out the Red Carpet for Midvale’s latest tourists…’

Kara rolled her eyes and slipped around a group of mothers with strollers who were gossiping about some handsome lord or something who had seen fit to wave at them from above. 

Kara had been forced to use her x-ray vision, just for a cursory scan, to check the ship for dangers when she’d heard that first gunshot—and she wasn’t exactly impressed. Sure, the yacht was filled with finery and enough food to make Kara’s mouth water, but she had seen nothing that would have her fawning and swooning over these people. 

It was just a one-time gig. Get in. Do the job. Get paid. Get out.

Kara was startled by another gunshot sounding—but this one sounded closer and there were gasps from the crowd. 

Kara froze, one foot suspended over the gangway she had been about to traverse. 

“Who goes there?!” A tinny voice called. 

Kara squinted against the sun up towards the captain’s galley. 

“Mr. Lord?”

The pair of large aviators reflected back only her confusion as the man above Kara knocked another cartridge into place with an overtly aggressive maneuver. 

“State your purpose.” The man in aviators called down. 

Kara swallowed and hooked her free thumb through a belt-loop on her jeans, leaning against the closest post on the dock. 

“That’s a nice Weatherby you got there.” Kara was not a gun owner herself, but her sister was an expert marksman, and after accompanying Alex to the range _so many_ times…Kara had acquired some knowledge on the subject.

“Yes, yes. Very expensive.” The Weatherby owner called down to Kara as he patted the intricate designs along the stock. “I have several.”

Kara wasn’t exactly sure whether that counted as another less-than-subtle threat so she sighed and hefted her tool kit as a show of intent.

“Did someone call for a carpenter?” 

There was a beat of silence and Kara knew the man above was sizing her up. She once again resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This was not the first time she had been underestimated or disregarded based on her appearance. Still, Kara caught herself flexing _just a little_.

“Ah! Splendid! You’re the carpenter! Yes, come aboard my good…ah, girl!” The skeet shooter called with a wave. 

Kara nodded and hefted her kit, her ears picking up on the twitterings of the crowd behind her. The reporters particularly were astounded that Kara Danvers, one of the most recent additions to Midvale’s assets had been given permission to board the exotic beauty. 

Kara hauled herself over the side of the yacht and took a moment to get her bearings. It was well manned, maybe a bit pompously, with plenty of crewmen to do the most absurd things, like hold umbrellas over their master’s head and run around carrying champagne and ice. It was a good thing the boat wasn’t moving, or Kara could imagine those poor young men would be slipping and sliding and spilling sherry everywhere. 

Kara lifted her head, but could no longer see the man in the naval outfit with the gun. 

“Ummm, hello? Mr. Lord?”

Kara received no answer. 

She glanced around again and caught the eye of one of the crewmen. The youth was gesturing with his head toward the stairs just below the captain’s gallery, leading into the bowels of the yacht. Kara assumed this must mean that Mr. Lord had gone below.

Kara saluted and turned to go down to meet him, hoping he could tell her where exactly her expertise was needed. 

Being Kryptonian, Kara had no problem adjusting to the softer darkness of belowdecks. 

She was, however, a little surprised that many of the portholes had been covered, either in expensive looking silk curtains or with something that she knew almost immediately was lead, so as to block out the natural light. There was a ghastly number of chandeliers lighting the way down the narrow halls, and candelabras and intricate lighting fixture in every single one of the large parlors Kara passed. She stuck her head in each one, her eyes growing bigger and bigger as she took in all of the splendor of Mr. Lord’s seafaring extravagance. 

There was a fireplace in the library. A _fireplace_ on a ship. Kara was pretty sure that that was a safety hazard, especially in a room full of beautiful red oak bookcases, all of which were full to the brim of first editions and beautifully engraved classics. Especially if said room full of said flammable books was on a literal vessel that could quite literally sink and burn. 

“Do you make a habit of lurking in doorways, ma’am?”

Kara almost jumped out of her skin. She spun around, almost dropping her toolkit. 

There was a man before her, but not the skeet shooter. This man was dressed like a penguin—no, a butler?

_They have a butler._

Kara shook her head and set down her tools to extend her hand, deciding that since the man was addressing her directly she may as well take this as an introduction.

“No, sorry, I was just—err, admiring the moldings and the cases, sir.” 

The butler seemed to relax ever so slightly as his grey eyes traveled up and down, blatantly ignoring Kara’s hand.

“Ah, so you’re the carpenter.” 

“I—ah, yes, sir.” Kara swiveled her toolbelt and reached for her back pocket, for the slip of paper she had been given with the time and address. 

“Andrew.” The man interrupted in the same voice that was both polite and dreary.

“I’m sorry?” Kara stammered. She had to jam her fingers into her back pocket and still couldn’t seem to get a good grip on that pesky slip of paper.

“You may refer to me as simply, Andrew. It was I who arranged for you to come.” Andrew the butler said evenly. 

Kara frowned ever so slightly. 

“Right, so could you tell me what it is exactly that needs my—”

“Andrew!” A shrill voice sent the hairs on the back of Kara’s neck standing on end and she turned quickly to locate the source. She immediately wished she weren’t still holding her toolkit and stuck with one hand in her back pocket because she felt awkward enough on a daily basis, she did not need to feel clumsy and foolish at the precise moment that she could have been flying, saving people from a burning building, or otherwise exuding charm and suave and calm—said moment being precisely when a very pretty girl was strolling gracefully toward her looking mad as hell.

“Could you please tell me what in _God’s name_ possessed you to lead this mutiny? Betraying me to my husband is one thing, but hiding the key to the liquor cabinet is low, even for you—” 

The butler cleared his throat and the green eyed woman swiveled her head just enough that Kara was immediately trapped. 

Her mouth dropped open of its own accord and she promptly dropped her toolbox on her own toe. 

Kara cursed and did a little hop as if to avoid the pain that should be shooting up and down her leg. She actually didn’t feel anything, but she was afraid that if she didn’t react it would look suspicious—so _of course_ she had to make a total fool of herself. 

The hard line of the woman’s red lips was broken for the first time by the slightest of amused lilts. She smirked at the newcomer and crossed her arms over her chest—or rather _under_ her chest. Kara could clearly see the way the action brushed her breasts up against the silky material of her suggestive gown, and she could see two pert nipples there as well.

“And who are you exactly?” The woman in blue demanded with the slightest quirk of her eyebrow.

Kara’s cheeks flushed. And she desperately snapped her eyes upward to the woman’s face—which did absolutely nothing to help her out of the helpless predicament she found herself in. The woman was gorgeous and clearly taunting her. 

_This is not going well._

Kara did her best to swallow, not choke, and straightened, extending her hand again. 

“I’m ahh, Kara Danvers.”

The woman’s ice green eyes darted down to the proffered hand as if she were looking down at a snake in the road. The smirk on her face hardening once again. 

“Ah, yes. Another reporter. Andrew…” The woman turned on her heel and tossed a hand flippantly over her shoulder. “You know the drill.”

“But I’m not—” Kara immediately started to protest. The way the woman had looked at her—so coldly—it stung a little. And Kara was simply crestfallen that she hadn’t been given a name before the woman left forever. 

“Miss Danvers here isn’t a reporter, Ma’am. She’s the carpenter.” The butler came to her defense.

Kara swore she saw every vertebrate in the icy woman’s spine click into place as she stiffened. 

“The _carpenter_.” The woman repeated icily and with as much derision as she could muster.

Kara was very confused, but she glanced down at herself. At her tanktop and jeans, her toolbelt clearly holding a hammer, chisel tips for fine tuning, and her packet of nails. Then over at her tool box that contained her heavier equipment. 

“I’m ahh—what exactly about this outfit made you think I was a reporter?” Kara asked, bewildered. 

“Thank you, Andrew. You may go.” The woman called without turning around. 

The butler stiffened and bowed low, which Kara thought was a little strange seeing as his mistress could not see him, but she supposed it was habit or perhaps protocol. 

“If you _are_ the carpenter…” The mysterious woman said slowly as she turned. 

She eyed Kara up and down so thoroughly that Kara began to feel self-conscious. Her usual instinct to flex or harden her stare when being appraised by any new threat had somehow fled and she felt like she was melting into an ashamed puddle—even though she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong!

“...you’re late.” 

With that, she turned on her heel and started down the hallway. 

Kara was too stunned for a moment to react, but when the woman turned left down another hallway, Kara quickly snatched up her toolbox and hurried to follow after her. 

“You have references?” The woman said evenly, not bothering to shout. 

“Oh, umm, no. Well, not really. You see, I just moved up to this area…”

Kara fell short when she heard the woman’s indignant huff. It was soft enough that a normal human could not have heard it, but Kara was an alien with incredible abilities—and yet somehow this woman made her feel inadequate. 

“Don’t walk so close to me.” The woman demanded. 

“Oh, uh—sorry!” Kara stammered, reaching up to adjust her glasses as she fell back a few steps. 

She felt ridiculous. 

And out of place.

_This really isn’t going well._

The woman had a way of navigating the narrow hallways and parlors that made Kara think she knew the vessel very well. She took Kara through one dining room and through a secret panel into a messy study of some kind. There were charts and maps and books scattered everywhere. Telescopes and microscopes all laid out on metal shelving, with labels and locked cases. 

Kara barely had time to register the cot in the corner before she realized her guide had slipped through another door, this time simply crossing the hall to the largest room yet at the very back of the yacht with large windows open to the water and a small balcony beyond. 

Kara’s eyes were wide as she turned in a slow circle to take in the dark hues in the wooden moldings along the ceiling and the polished floor beneath the rugs. The headboard that protruded slightly from the wall depicted a mermaid of sorts singing on a rock with a ship sailing away in the background—Kara could even see the tears that had been carved into her cheeks, and the ocean spray upon the rock. 

“This is—this is just beautiful. Wow.” Kara murmured, her jaw going slack. 

“Try not to touch anything.” The woman said with clear derision as she crossed over to a kitchenette and produced a bottle of amber liquid. She poured herself a glass.

“Oh, okay—I won’t.” Kara promised, flashing one of her famous grins. 

She received only an eyeroll for her efforts.

“Andrew will keep an eye on you while you work.” The woman explained. 

And as if on cue, the butler appeared in the doorway, making Kara jump. 

“Very good, Madam.” The butler intoned. 

“Maybe you’d like to take fingerprints before I get started.” Kara joked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

The butler continued to stare straight ahead and the mystery woman whom Kara was beginning to realize was Mr. Lord’s wife and therefore _really important_ simply glowered at her from across the room, her red lips pursed in distaste as she swirled her alcohol around her glass. 

“Sorry. I was just—kidding. I joke when I’m nervous.” Kara stammered, wanting to kick herself for oversharing…again. 

“Nervous.” The woman said with another uptick of her perfect eyebrow. She set down her glass rather forcefully and took a menacing step toward Kara. “You have done this kind of work before, have you not? _Carpenter_?”

Her eyes flicked up and down Kara’s form once more, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly. 

“Oh, well, yeah. Of course. I’ve been into woodworking since I was a little kid trying to do something useful with my hands…” Kara could see immediately that the woman was bored with her tale before she’d even really started so Kara coughed and adjusted her belt again. 

“But ummm—if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is the problem?”

The woman sighed and turned away from Kara, the long train of her gown swishing along the wooden floors like an echo. The woman crossed to a set of doors Kara had not noticed before and threw them open with a bit more fanfare than Kara thought was necessary.

“My closet.” The woman said sadly.

Kara blinked and glanced at the butler. “What?”

The woman rolled verdant eyes and opened her arms to indicate another spacious room that Kara was pretty sure she could fly around in with no problem. 

“In here.” 

Kara crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to keep herself from brushing up against anything as she stepped into the ‘closet’ that was big enough to be so much more. Kara’s eyes were immediately drawn to all of the fine gowns, covered in beading and ribbons that stretched along one wall. There were cabinets above that Kara seriously doubted the woman before her could reach on her own and a huge mirror in the back, the kind Kara had seen in her sister’s ballet studio when they were kids.

“Now, I’m sure you can see how _inadequate_ this all is.” The woman said seriously, shooting a glare over her shoulder to her butler.

Kara frowned and eyed the woman. Everything seemed to have a place to her eye. There were shoes paired and lined up neatly beneath the dresses on both walls, a chest of drawers labeled ‘nightwear’, ‘blouses’, ‘sweaters’, ‘pants’, and so on.

Kara glanced down at the crumpled up piece of paper in her hand and then lifted her blue eyes once again to the woman before her who looked both bored and angry. 

“I—was told this was some kind of emergency.” Kara said in confusion. 

“It is!” The butler spoke quickly and after a sharp look from his mistress ducked back out to stand at attention in the room beyond--leaving Kara and Mrs. Lord alone in the closet. “Forgive me, but it _is_ an emergency, Miss Danvers for you see—”

“I need new shoe racks for my shoes.” Mrs. Lord interrupted, a mischievous glint brightening her green eyes. 

Kara turned away from the butler to stare at the woman. 

“What?” 

“Racks. For my shoes. I’m sorry, is English your second language?” The woman demanded as she turned to indicate the rows of neatly organized shoes along the baseboards. “And I must have somewhere else to put my lingerie, I’ve been keeping them in these little boxes ever since we left Spain and I can’t continue to dig around for them every night, it’s exhausting.” 

Kara was trying to look anywhere but at the boxes the woman had indicated stacked neatly against one half of the mirror in the back. There were several boxes with tops askew, and if Kara tilted her head she was sure she would be able to see the thongs and bras inside even without using her x-ray vision. The impulse to do so surprised her. Normally she was much more chivalrous—or at least, she tried to be. 

“So…” Kara let out the breath that she had been holding. “You want me to remodel your closet?”

The woman turned to pierce Kara with her unamused stare once more, her entire face frozen in a mask of seriousness. 

“Is that not what I have just been explaining in some detail?” She demanded. 

Kara found herself stammering again. The woman was facing her now, but Kara could see her reflection in the mirror—and the blue gown she wore was translucent enough to give more than a bit of a suggestion of the shapely legs hidden in the folds of her skirt. 

The woman suddenly lifted a hand, her eyes hardening as her nostrils flared again. 

“What is that obscene odour?” 

Kara balked and glanced one way and then the other. 

“I—I don’t smell anything.” 

The woman rolled her eyes and brushed by Kara, leaving a tint of some sort of floral perfume, maybe plumerias?, in her wake. 

Kara discreetly leaned her head over and tried to sniff the collar of her tank top, but still couldn’t smell anything. She shrugged her shoulders and went to retrieve her tool kit that she had left on the counter in the bedroom.

Kara almost stumbled when an even heavier puff of plumeria hit her right in the chest and billowed up over her head. Kara gagged and blinked rapidly, vaguely aware of the mystery woman holding a bottle of perfume that she was pointing like a gun in Kara’s direction. 

“Madam.” The butler called. 

The woman, Mrs. Lord, turned her head and set down the bottle, giving Kara a much needed reprieve from the spritzes of perfume. 

“Well, there you are. I almost had to wait.” Mrs. Lord snapped as another woman stepped into the room. She was not very tall, but was wearing a shapely blouse and pencil skirt. She was also lugging a large bushel basket full to the brim with peaches. 

Kara could smell them from where she was rummaging in her kit, pulling out a tape measure. It would have blended very well with the plumeria scent of Mrs. Lord's perfume, but Kara was absolutely reeking of it now and the addition of the even sweeter peach smell almost gave her a headache. 

“My apologies, Mrs. Lord. I was able to procure some of the local produce, as you requested…” The woman stammered. She had wide, frightened, almond shaped eyes, and she trembled as she held out the basket for her mistress to look over. 

“God! What is this abominable mess, Jess?!” Mrs. Lord suddenly shouted. 

Kara glanced up from her tools, concerned for the welfare of this poor woman named Jess. Mrs. Lord held a peach daintily in her hand, one with exactly a single nibble taken from it. 

“It’s—it’s a peach, Mrs. Lord, I’m sorry…” Jess stammered. 

“Jess, when I tell you to procure staples, must I specify that you are to procure the best produce that money can buy and not this…this _fermented fish bait_?!” Mrs. Lord demanded. 

Kara waited with baited breath. 

She knew those peaches. She drove by the Howard place every day on her way into town. She knew their goods. She could smell their orchards every night on the west wind as she drifted off to sleep. She knew their produce was amazing. 

It was in that moment that Kara realized there would be no pleasing Mrs. Lord.

“Yes, Mrs. Lord.” Jess whispered, hanging her head. 

“Peaches, Jess, should be succulent and soft.” Mrs. Lord continued as she tossed the peach back into the basket and took out two more, both of which were fairly large and engorged, the skin breaking along her fingers to ooze sticky juice, “They should be of adequate size.”

Kara shook her head as she took her tape measure back into the closet. 

She left the door open and could still hear Mrs. Lord going on about peaches, but she told herself to ignore it. No matter what else happened, she needed to keep her head in the closet--for her own sake.

“Biting into a peach should be blissful and just a little… _wet_.”

Kara froze, afraid that when she unclenched the fist she’d made around the doorframe as she reached up to measure the space from floor to ceiling, there would be obvious indentations left from her fingers. But she couldn’t help it. Mrs. Lord had dropped her voice seductively, Kara was sure of it. 

“The juice of the peach should break over your tongue at _precisely the right moment_ , not at the first _touch_ …but at the first _bite_.” Mrs. Lord rasped, her eyes narrowed at the terrified woman before her. 

“I—yes, Mrs. Lord, I understand.” Jess whimpered. 

“Good.” Mrs. Lord praised, straightening and flickering her eyes once more over the basket with clear distaste. “Now throw that out.” 

Jess nodded and scurried out of the room. 

Mrs. Lord smirked and turned back to the empty room. She could no longer hear any movement coming from the closet and she couldn’t help but smile to herself. Just the _thought_ of that bumbling blonde's mortified face was enough to send a thrum of pleasure through her body. She was tempted to take a peek. Maybe she'd short-circuited and had fallen to the floor. Maybe she could have Andrew throw her overboard before she had to put up with anymore of this _nonsense_.

“Must you do that, Ma’am?” Andrew the butler asked with a sigh as he reached into his sleeve to produce a napkin. 

Mrs. Lord gave him a look as she lifted her hand to her lips to suck the peach juice from one finger. Andrew sighed and looked away, still proffering the napkin. 

“Carpenter!” Mrs. Lord called as she took the cloth and used it to clean her hands. 

Kara stuck her head out of the closet, her cheeks still tinged pink. 

“Yes?”

Mrs. Lord stood at the doorway, already halfway out of the room. She narrowed her eyes at Kara and waited for the woman in the ratty white tank top and the appalling ripped and stained jeans to step out to face her. 

“You have exactly forty-eight hours to complete this project.” Mrs. Lord proclaimed. 

Kara’s stomach fell and her eyes darted to the closet. “Wha—But...”

Mrs. Lord held up a hand and like an obedient servant, the carpenter shut her mouth. 

“I suggest you get started.” Mrs. Lord said with a tilt of the chin.

Kara sighed and reached up to run a hand through her hair, exasperated. 

Mrs. Lord tracked the movement, the flexing of every muscle. She took a sharp breath and turned to leave. 

“And Andrew.” She murmured lowly, her eyes on the door across the hall that led to her workshop, her safe haven. 

“Yes, Madam?” Andrew asked, leaning forward. 

“Watch her.” Mrs. Lord demanded. She held the butler’s eyes for a long moment and then stepped out into the hall. 

“And for God’s sake, get me something stronger than Maxwell’s watered down rum. We are _not_ pirates!”


	4. The Joys of Working for Millionaires

Kara found that working with her hands was an excellent way to work through her nerves. For some time after Mrs. Lorde had left her to her own devices, Kara was flustered, picking up the wrong tools. Measuring things too many times. Accidentally bumping into _everything_.

But eventually, she was able to breathe easier and focus on the job itself. 

She could envision exactly where to put the new shoe rack. She knew exactly where to put the drawer for Mrs. Lord’s…rather extensive lingerie collection. She had drawn it in her pocket notebook, and scribbled in the measurements. All she had to do was give a copy to Andrew and she was promised ‘someone would pick up everything she needed’, which Kara somehow found reassuring. 

She cleared a space in the center of the room—far away from all the things she was not supposed to touch, and set up a simple saw horse, waiting for the boards to arrive so she could begin sawing and shaping. Then she began removing Mrs. Lord’s things. She tried not to look at them for too long…or smell them. She knew it was part of the job, but it still felt a little intrusive.

She was halfway through restacking Mrs. Lord’s lingerie boxes when she heard a door across the hall slam and she lifted her head, and once again—immediately wished she hadn’t. Mrs. Lord was walking by in a bikini, one that flashed green and vibrant and would probably have brought out her eyes if there had been more of it. 

The woman, Jess, was trailing behind her, carrying a towel and a bag full of sunscreen bottles. Mrs. Lord was on the phone and Kara ducked down when the woman turned her way. 

“No, no, Jaques…we have to bid.” Mrs. Lorde insisted. “Because we need it—no, no, you’re right. _I_ need it. I know it will cost me, but I can’t get the generator to work without it—we need that isotope.” 

Mrs. Lord narrowed her eyes at the tufts of golden hair she could see sticking up just beyond the boxes of her lingerie strung out all over the room. She lifted her nose and turned away, clenching her jaw. 

“For _Heaven’s Sake_ , Jaques! Just tell me how much—right, then, raise it to 160 million. It’s an investment, and I _don’t_ lose.”

Kara felt like the rug had been yanked out from under her. _160 million_ —Rao, Kara was working for millionaires! Alex would not _believe_ this!

Kara lifted her head and let out a sigh of relief when she saw that the coast was clear. 

She jumped up to her feet and went back into the closet, chalking in her measurements. 


	5. Oh How the Tension Grows

Mrs. Lord was stretched out in one of her deck chairs beside the enclosed pool. Even though there was only a dusky brand of sunlight filtering in through the skylights, she had lathered on several layers of sunscreen and kept her chair stationed at the dark end of the pool. 

She had a flashlight in hand as she read Forbes Magazine, and beside her, Jess, her personal assistant, fiddled with the radio, trying to find something that would live up to Mrs. Lord’s musical standards.

“And another beautiful Midvale afternoon begins with our Commentary hour!” A voice echoed in the room. Jess let out a squeak and frantically tried to change stations again, but only succeeded on turning up the volume,

“Snapper Carr here with some local items. We’re all still amazed by the appearance of that big-ass boat down on the water, owned by a Maxwell Lord and his wife, big city slickers all the way from Metropolis! It seems that Lord and his little lady are having some engine trouble, so they pulled in here to fix ‘er up!”

“For God’s sake, Jess, just turn it off!” Mrs. Lord steamed, clearly put out.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lord. Is there anything I can do?” Jess asked apologetically as she started packing away the radio. 

“You can stop calling me ‘Mrs. Lord’. You know how much I hate it.” Mrs. Lord sighed. She tossed her magazine aside and reached up to rub at her temples. 

“Oh, I’m—I’m sorry, Madam Helena.” Jess said awkwardly. 

A faint smile tugged at Helena’s lips, but did not stay. 

“If you’re still feeling unwell, why don’t you go lie down belowdecks?” Jess asked hesitantly. She held out the damp towel, not at all surprised when her mistress took it. 

“Because that _Carpenter_ on metabolic _steroids_ is still working on my closet. She’s sweating all over the place.” Helena fumed as she rolled up the towel to place over her eyes.

“Don’t you always say that dreams don’t become reality through magic? It takes sweat, determination and hard work.” Jess recited with gusto. 

Helena sighed and laid back with a huff. 

“That was Colin Powell.” 

“What?” 

“The quote, it was Colin Powell who said—nevermind.” Helena groaned and turned onto her side, pulling the towel around her like a blanket as she glared at the faintly glowing blue water. 

“Well, if she’s sweating a lot, it means she’s working hard to make your closet perfect for you, Madam.” Jess reasoned. 

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with the closet. I only go in there when we throw parties anyway. It’s pointless. The _whole thing_ is pointless. She should just give up and _go_.” Helena whined, curling in on herself. It had become rather clear to her that the female carpenter was ruining _everything_.

“Maybe you’re right.” Jess said thoughtfully. 

Helena lifted her head slightly to look over her shoulder, surprised. 

“I mean, she has been working pretty hard since eight—she hasn’t even had lunch yet. Poor thing.” Jess said wistfully.

“Oh for God’s _sake_!” Helena sighed, tossing the towel away. She slipped her feet into the flip flops she had brought with her and stormed out of the room, taking the stairs down below the decks to the main floor where _poor_ Kara Danvers was wiling away.

Helena Lord stomped down the hallway and right through the door before she had even grasped what it was she was coming to say. Let alone do. 

She had clearly startled Kara Danvers, the Carpenter, who shot up to her feet with a sheepish expression on her face. She was cradling in her hands a plate of—Helena’s nose wrinkled and she turned ever so slightly to change her trajectory. She continued stomping as she gave Kara Danvers and her _fried mess_ a wide berth and went for the bedside table of the master bed.

Up above, Helena could hear her husband calling for his little minions to _pull!_ and release those poor clay pigeons. Nearly every shot was followed with mixed applause and ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the perpetual crowd on the pier, but Helena knew this did not necessarily mean that her husband had actually hit the target. He was merely rewarded for his show of prowess, not for actually achieving anything. 

“Umm, Hello, ahh—Mrs. Lord. Can I—what are you—” Kara Danvers was adjusting her dark rimmed glasses, once again blending a timid, thoughtful persona with the muscular mountain woman look quite flawlessly, which Helena found infuriating.

“You do realize that forks were invented so Man could at least make a pretense of separating himself from the bipedal prehistoric _beasts_ from which he descended?” Helena snarled, very aware that there was grease all over Kara Danvers’s fingers…and her chin. 

“So were thumbs.” Kara muttered, setting down her plate, having lost her appetite.

“What did you say?” Helena demanded, turning around and crossing her arms over her chest. She knew she was scantily clad and that it was incredibly hot in here, making her sweat and glisten. But it was not her fault that her husband insisted on stocking the yacht with these outfits and insisting she use vacation time to relax and _let go_. It was also not her fault that there was a perfect ‘v’ of sweat forming just between Kara Danvers’s breasts—nor was it her fault that she was here now without a valid reason to invite Kara Danvers to join her for lunch seeing as someone had given the young woman _everything she needed_. 

“Nothing.” Kara immediately responded. She patted her stomach and grinned. “Just my belly.” 

Helena blinked once, her green eyes narrowing.

“Well, please try to control your bodily noises so I can hear myself _think_!” She snapped as she stormed out of the room. She had fully intended to grab a nail file to justify her barging into the master suite, but as soon as she could glance down she realized that she had mistakenly grabbed a tampon.

Mrs. Lord did not return to the pool cabana on the deck. 

Instead, she locked herself in her study and refused to come out until night had fallen, well after that pesky Carpenter had left. 


	6. Idle Conversations--Let's Away!

By the third morning, Helena Luthor Lord was anxious for Kara Danvers to get out of her life. Not only was the woman frightfully _cheerful_ every morning when she came aboard the _Imaculata_ , but she was also systematically turning Helena’s life upside down.

Helena was spending more and more time avoiding her, which meant she had to take up residence on the decks…with her husband. 

“Why did you drag me up here, Maxwell?” Helena demanded as she glared out at the cliffs that cut them off from the open ocean. 

“I told you, they like to see us together.” Maxwell explained, giving another wave to the ever-growing crowds on the docks. He was sipping a mint julip, but Helena was eyeing the way her nails were being painted with a decided frown on her face. 

“These gnats keep landing on my wet nail polish.” Helena murmured, eyeing the insect that was in fact stuck and desperately trying to free itself at the risk of tearing its small body from its wings. 

“They think we’re royalty or something, can you believe it? I had to have Lawrence make room in the kitchen storeroom for all of the giftbaskets they’ve given us. Some of it is…you know, _primeval_ , but someone did bring us something that I’m pretty sure is moonshine—I’d like to try it.” Maxwell laughed as he leaned back against his cushions. 

“I suppose I’m meant to walk around with their little corpses stuck to my fingers.” Helena said sadly as she flexed her fingers. 

Behind her, Jess gave Andrew the butler a worried look.

“Helena, please. Don’t be crass.” Maxwell scolded. 

“Oh, I’m sorry if I’m being a little _crass_.” Helena said icily. 

Andrew sighed and adjusted the watch on his wrist, staring out at the cliffs—wondering what it would feel like to jump from one.

“I suppose I shouldn’t take it to heart that the workmen _you hired_ don’t know how to fix a marine diesel engine or that that Carpenter _you hired_ from _God knows where_ doesn’t know anything about closets and is taking over the cabin below so I’ve been _forced_ to sit out here with the sun _frying_ my skin to oblivion. I suppose I should be _grateful_ that even stranded on the cusp of this _hellhole_ , we are still _living lavishly_.” Helena growled. 

“That’s the spirit, my angel.” Maxwell lifted his glass in her direction. 

“I thought you liked the Carpenter.” Jess puzzled.

“What?” Maxwell snorted. “That sunny little lumberjack librarian? Whatever gave you—”

“Shhh!” Helena suddenly hissed, sitting up so quickly she knocked the nail polish out of the young crewman’s hands. 

“What is it, Madam?” Andrew asked, once again grounded in the present. 

“She’s listening.” Helena hissed, her green eyes wide.

“Who?” Maxwell demanded. 

“The _Carpenter_ —she can hear _everything_. She’s been listening to everything for the last two days.” Helena insisted.

“Well, dash it all, Helena—it’s your project. You deal with it.” Maxwell hummed as he sat back again and slipped the brim of his naval hat over his eyes, making it clear the subject was closed in his opinion.

Helena’s heart was pounding wildly, but she schooled her expression when the captain appeared at the top of the stairs. 

“Just wanted to let you know, Madam, Sir. That the engines are operational again.” The captain relayed. 

“Splendid!” Maxwell clapped his hands, once again animated. “Let’s get going.” 

He staggered over to the railing to wave excitedly down to the crowds on the docks as the captain nodded and went up to his galley to blow the horn and signal their intent to leave.

“Not so hasty, Maxwell. First we have to dismiss the local crewmen and have a proper inspection.” Helena chided as she stood, smoothing down the full length of her silky gown. It was a bright yellow today. One with a diamond studded collar and cuffs. There were diamonds speckling her waist as well, but she rather liked the open back. 

“Fine, fine. By all means, get rid of her. Have your inspection. But for Heaven’s sake, let’s away!” Maxwell complained. 

“Madam Helena…would you like me to put your jewelry back on you?” Jess asked, stepping around the frantic crewman who was mopping up the spilt nail polish.

“No thank you, Jess. I’m still tacky.” Helena murmured, checking the texture of her nails against the pads of her fingers as she walked away. 

_Make this quick_ , she told herself as she took the stairs down to the cabin. 

It was not often that she agreed with her husband, but Helena also felt that it would be in their best interests to get away from Midvale as soon as possible.


	7. An Unsatisfactory Farewell

Kara was packing up her tools when she heard the yacht’s horn sound. 

It was so loud it rattled her skull and sent her to her knees for a moment, clutching at her head. 

“Kara? Kara, are you alright?” Alex’s voice came from Kara’s cell phone, concerned. 

Kara straightened and jammed the phone between her ear and shoulder as she tried to recover her spilled nails. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just a loud noise. It startled me, that’s all. I guess the Lords aren’t going to stick around now that their engine’s fixed.” 

“Well good riddance.” Alex tsked. 

“They’re not all that bad.” Kara defended as she checked under the bed for any of her missing nails. “Cold and Callous? Yes. But bad? No.” 

“Whatever. Just keep your mouth shut for ten more minutes, collect your money and get the hell out of there.”

“Alright, alright, geeze.” Kara laughed as she ran a forearm over her forehead and adjusted her grip on the phone. “You sound kinda tense, is everything okay?” 

Kara could hear Alex’s heartbeat through the phone, and she did sound uncertain, almost indistinct, which was odd for her sister. 

“No, everything’s fine, okay. I want you to enjoy this evening. You’ve earned it. You wanted to get some projects under your belt and you did that. So don’t worry. Go out. Get a beer with Winn or something.”

“Alex.” Kara whined. 

“Look, just…keep your phone on you, alright. We’re not sure what’s—”

“Are we paying you to take social calls?” A piercing voice cut through the room and Kara spun around awkwardly. 

"I have to go—call you later. Bye.” Kara whispered quickly into the phone as she tried unsuccessfully to end the call and slide the phone into her pocket in one brisk move. She was, however, still a little sweaty and the phone slipped through her fingers and she tried to catch it several times as it clattered to the floor. 

“By all means…continue to waste my time.” Mrs. Lord said briskly as she strode into the room.

“Mrs. Lord! I’m so sorry, I was—”

“What. Is. This?” Mrs. Lord demanded from inside the closet.

“Oh, well, I’m done. I’m finished. With the closet. Do you like it?” Kara asked, fiddling with her glasses as she came up behind the woman who was taking up most of the closet’s entryway.

“What is it?” Mrs. Lord asked again, her green eyes wide as she stared at the monstrosity just inside the entrance to her large closet. 

“Oh, well—it’s a shoe rack…with a twist. Here look, watch!” Kara called excitedly as she squeezed around Mrs. Lord to get into the closet. Her hand briefly brushed along the exposed portion of Mrs. Lord’s back and the woman stiffened noticeably.

“Look, so—you have about six pairs on display here in each of these portions, but when you want to see others, you turn the crank here on the side, like this—and see, these drop back, these split…” Kara demonstrated her revolving shoe rack with a broad grin. It was compact and efficient, and required no electrical. “See? Twice the space.” 

“Stop boring me with your absurdities, Carpenter. I want to know what it is _made of!_ ” Mrs. Lord snapped.

Kara’s eyebrows inched together and she glanced from her contraption to the woman across from her and back again. “It’s…It’s called wood. It’s oak.”

“Oak.” Mrs. Lord deadpanned, lifting her eyes up to the cabinets that had also been redone. “An _oak_ closet?”

There was a beat of silence and Kara caught herself holding her breath. 

She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted Mrs. Lord to be pleased with her work, to _smile_. It would make this entire debacle worth it if she could see Mrs. Lord smile _just once_.

Mrs. Lord made a soft sound that was somewhere between a snort and a snarl as she turned on her heel to leave the closet. 

“Why am I not surprised.” Mrs. Lord said coldly.

Kara felt her stomach twisting painfully and she fiddled with the chisel tips in her tool belt to keep from hugging herself tightly. 

“Ummm—I don’t know, why aren’t you surprised?”

“One would think you would know, Miss Kara Danvers _Carpenter_ , that closets are made of cedar. If not, we get moths.” Mrs. Lord snapped. She had gone to the kitchenette and poured herself something that Kara suspected was not water. 

"Okay, well, first of all, it’s just Kara Danvers. _Carpenter_ sounds like another name, but it’s not, it’s just a trade distinction—and secondly, you don’t have to worry about moths, Mrs. Lord. Not out here. And…not on the ocean.” 

Mrs. Lord brought down the glass in her hand hard and glared over her shoulder at Kara. 

Kara gulped and reached up to fiddle with her glasses, almost knocking loose the pencil she’d tucked behind her right ear.

“But it’s fine, if you want cedar, I—I can start over. But I have to tell you that getting cedar will more than double my estimate.” Kara stammered as she pulled out her notebook and scratched through some calculations she had made. 

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Lord snapped, her green eyes narrowing even more. 

“I—I mean that I’ve already done this in oak, so in order to take it out and start over it will cost a bit more, especially since we’ll have to send for the cedar and I know it’s an inconvenience, but I can—”

“I’m not paying for your mistake.” Mrs. Lord interrupted.

“M-Mistake?” Kara was utterly confused. She glanced at the closet and back at the woman who was glowering at her. “I—I did what you asked.”

“But not with _cedar_!” Mrs. Lord insisted.

“You never _asked_ for cedar.” Kara retorted, her confusion giving way to a brief flare of anger. 

"That’s because I expected you to know _what you were doing_!” Mrs. Lord snapped. “Everyone in the _civilized world_ knows that closets are made of cedar.”

Kara could feel the boat beneath their feet starting to hum to life—it seemed to help shake her world just a little bit further. She wanted to shout that she wasn’t from _this_ world, civilized or otherwise, but she didn’t dare. It was a secret she held close to her heart and this woman was not going to get anywhere near it.

“Mrs. Lord, I’m sorry, but I can’t just—”

“No, you _can’t just_ anything, can you?" Mrs. Lord sneered, the twist of her mouth unpleasant and cruel, "You are incompetent and _completely_ out of line, and you are fired.” 

Each word was like a physical blow. Kara had worked hard to start a new life apart from what she could _do_ , and this had seemed like her first chance for some semblance of a normal life. Her ticket to working for Mrs. Grant on a permanent basis, and getting a steady income.

Kara was so shocked she almost didn’t hear the raised voices echoing down the hall until Alex was pushing her way into the bedroom as well. 

“There you are, Kara. I know you said 4:30, but something came up and I need you right—hey, what’s wrong.” Alex strode immediately to her sister’s side, taking in her clenched fists and vacant expression. She noticed a woman in yellow leaning against a bar on the other side of the room, but she ignored that for the moment, deducting without even really trying that this was the _Mrs. Lord_ Kara had told her about. 

Alex reached out and brushed her fingertips lightly along Kara’s arm. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

"I’m…” Kara blinked and turned her head to stare up blankly at her sister. “I’m fired.” 

“What? Fired?!” Alex rounded on the yellow blob out of the corner of her eye and glared at Mrs. Lord. “What does she mean, she’s fired?”

“Does the word have an alternative definition out here in Midvale?” Mrs. Lord demanded without humor. “She is _fired_. _Dismissed_ from my service. _Canned_. _Rebuffed_. Kara Danvers is no longer of my employ. The job was not completed to my satisfaction and I want her off my boat.” 

Mrs. Lord turned on her heel and swept from the room.

Kara was still staring at the ground. 

She took a deep breath and turned to take up her tool kit, resigning herself to the rest of the cheerless day. 

“Alright. You heard her, I’m done. So—what was it you and J’onn needed?” Kara asked dolefully. 

Alex’s eyes were burning and she glared at the immaculate things around her as if she wanted to set them all on fire. 

“She’s unbelievable.” Alex snarled, anger twisting in her gut.

“She’s determined to be unhappy,” Kara amended with a shrug, “and there’s nothing I can do to change that. Let’s just go.” 

Alex turned her head slightly, her brown eyes narrowing.

“No.” 

Kara froze, her heart leaping into her throat. “What? No? Alex—”

“That witch still owes you for the closet.” Alex insisted, moving to brush by Kara and storm after the woman who had the audacity to fire her baby sister.

“She didn’t like the closet.” Kara called desperately, trailing after her sister.

“The hell she didn’t! I saw it, it looked great!” Alex called over her shoulder as she shoved a babbling crewman out of the way and scrambled up the ladder to the deck above. 

Kara apologized profusely to the crewman, but she could already hear the fireworks overhead, her sister coming to her defense. 

“Hey! You! Sunflower!” 

_Oh Rao!_

“Why are there still hoodlums on my boat? Hector, I need this woman and the Carpenter removed.” Mrs. Lord’s voice returned.

Kara couldn’t make it up the ladder with her toolkit in hand without resorting to flight so she raced down the hallway to the stairs that would take her up.

“Kara! Her name is _Kara_ and she gave you a perfectly good closet!” Alex bellowed. 

Kara topped the stairs and turned, trying to find her sister and Mrs. Lord--Alex had her backed against the rail. 

“I told you, the job was not done to my satisfaction and as such…” Mrs. Lord began.

“I got news for you, lady.” Alex interrupted, backing Mrs. Lorde up to the siderail. “No job will _ever_ be done to your satisfaction.”

There were crewmen and servants just standing about, watching and listening. At Alex’s insult, a few cheered. Kara didn’t understand why none of them had moved to do anything—like maybe stopping Alex from throwing their mistress overboard.

“That’s quite enough!” Mrs. Lord snapped, refusing to look over her shoulder to the water down below. The yacht had begun to back away from the dock, and thankfully, the red-headed woman had cornered her on the starboard side—away from the crowds on the docks. They might be aware that something was going on, but there was no way any of them could see what was happening. 

“I want you to leave. Now!” Mrs. Lord demanded. 

“No problem!” Alex hissed, lifting her hands up as if to prove she had no ill intentions. “Just pay my sister the 600 bucks you owe her and we’re gone.”

Mrs. Lord blinked. _Sister?_

She stowed away this information, but didn’t know why. She was leaving Midvale. She would never have an occasion to see either of these women again. It did not matter to her whether Kara Danvers had a sister or a brother or a husband and family out there somewhere. 

None of it mattered. 

She was leaving.

And she had no intentions of _ever_ coming back to this backwater.

“Captain Karl!” Mrs. Lord called, turning her back on Kara’s sister. “Take us to sea.” 

She heard her orders relayed several times before she felt the jolt of the yacht finally kicking into gear. She knew Maxwell was no doubt below decks, taking some more of his motion sickness medication to prepare for the hazardous journey out of this ghastly cove. 

“You know what your problem is, huh?”

Mrs. Lord had almost forgotten about the red-head. She turned, incredulous, unable to fathom why the woman was still leaning against the railing instead of disembarking.

“You’re so _goddamn_ bored. You gotta invent things to bitch about. You haven’t got a single thing to do all day except your hair.” Alex observed with narrowed eyes.

“Would you kindly shut up and get off my yacht.” Mrs. Lord offered one final time through gritted teeth.

“That closet was fine.” Alex insisted.

“So what if it _was_ ‘fine’?!” Mrs. Lord roared. “It’s not what I _wanted_!” 

Alex regarded the woman before her with derision and shook her head. 

“Figures. You just needed something to take up your useless, empty, nail-painting, gold-polishing, rich-bitch, sun tanning days.” Alex observed in a cold tone. 

There were once again several stifled cheers from the lower deck.

“Alex!” Kara squeaked. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

Mrs. Lord swallowed the venomous retort she desperately wanted to make about how her life was not full of empty, useless days unless she was _dragged_ from her desk for a ‘vacation’, nor was she prone to sun-tanning or painting her nails or fussing about her hair unless she was cooped up on her yacht in the _middle of nowhere_ with _absolutely nothing else to occupy her time!_

“Now would be the time for you to leave. Both of you. Before I do something rash.” Mrs. Lord hissed.

“No. No way.” Alex snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere until you pay Kara the—”

Before the red-headed woman could properly finish stating her purpose, Helena nudged her shoulder just enough to send her toppling over the side of the yacht into the water. 

“Alex!” Kara shouted, darting to the rail.

“Damn you!” Alex shouted up from the water, coughing and sputtering. 

Mrs. Lord lifted her head when she heard the ship’s mate clanging the alarm bell. 

“Man overboard!”

The bell brought Maxwell to the galley, still stumbling with a bottle of rum in his hand. He always took his medicine with alcohol. 

“What is it—damnit, my crumpet, what’s all the fuss about?” Maxwell called down to the bright yellow splotch on the horizon that logic told him was his wife. 

“Nothing, Maxwell. Just a—” The words died in Helena’s throat when she heard another splash and this time her head snapped to watch.

“Another man overboard!” The ship’s mate shouted, clanging the bell right in Maxwell’s ear. 

Maxwell Lord groaned and wrapped both arms over his head, spilling his rum as he staggered toward the rail to vomit into the waves—of course, he made his way to the port side, and vomited in front of the audience he so loved. 

But Helena didn’t notice that. 

She was more concerned with watching the Carpenter cut through the water on her way to her sister. Every stroke was smooth and powerful…she looked like a sleek dolphin or some other such creature. 

“Should we toss them a line, you think?” Andrew asked casually from where he’d materialized at Mrs. Lord’s shoulder. 

“Hey! I see you!” Alex was shouting, clearly still angry even as she clung to her sister’s neck. “I will get you for this! You hear me?! You still owe my sister six hundred bucks you insufferable—”

Thankfully, the readhead’s rant was cut off once again by the ship’s horn sounding. 

“No. Keep going, Andrew. The sooner we get out of here, the better.” Mrs. Lord said before turning to go below decks. 

She had seen enough of Midvale. Of Kara Danvers and her rampaging sister, to last her a lifetime.

“As you wish, Madam. I’ll tell the captain.” Andrew said with a slight bow. 

He started to leave the rail, but then noticed the toolkit sitting in everybody’s way on the floor. He considered kicking it over as well, but something made him reach down and pick it up to stow away. He was not quite sure why, but he felt that perhaps Kara Danvers had suffered enough at the hands of everyone on this boat. 


	8. Things are Looking Bleak

Kara’s clothes were sopping and sticking to her as she and Alex climbed out of the water at the nearest dock. Kara couldn’t feel the cold, but she knew Alex could. Thankfully, a few of the townspeople had noticed them swimming for shore and had run over with blankets. Kara accepted one just for show and then tossed it over Alex’s shoulders as they walked away from the pier toward Alex’s government issued SUV. 

“The nerve—can you believe the nerve of that woman?” Alex fumed. She was emptying her pockets of all of the things that would have to be replaced—her cell phone, pager, Bluetooth piece, waterlogged photo ID for the DEO. 

“No.” Kara said quietly. She was feeling along her belt—trying to gauge what had come loose in the water—exactly what she had left.

Alex had lost her loafers in the water. But Kara’s converse squelched with each step. She couldn’t necessarily feel the cold, but she could feel the discomfort of the water in her socks. Kara reached up to brush her curls from her face. Her bun had come undone and her curls were limp and wet at the back of her neck and all over her face. 

“I’m pretty sure I lost all of my tools.” Kara said after a moment, dejected.

“Hey, it’s—it’s gonna be okay.” Alex said quickly. 

Kara shook her head and sat on the curb, unwilling to climb into Alex’s car just yet. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m the exact opposite of okay. I was hoping to use them as a reference, give Mrs. Grant before and after photos of the job, but—my phone is fried and my tools are at the bottom of the bay.” 

“We’ll get you new tools.” Alex tried to sound reassuring. 

“What’s the point, Alex? Who would even hire me after that fiasco?” Kara demanded, tears in her eyes.

“Hey.” Alex reached out and put a hand on Kara’s shoulder, forcing her sister to look up into her eyes. “ _I_ would.”

“J’onn didn’t really understand at first why you wanted to do this so badly, but he doesn’t have the responsibilities you do.” Alex said quietly. “But I think—I think you were right. Being a superhero is great and all, but you need more than that. You need a way to plug into the people around you—to have good days and terrible days like today. So you can be…well, _Kara_.”

Kara sniffled and wrapped her arms around her sister’s neck, sighing into her warmth. She knew Alex understood. Her sister had been with her through most everything. It had been Alex who had suggested the move in the first place, saying that it would be best…for _everyone_.

“You’re the best. You know that?” Kara whispered.

“Yeah, well—don’t put me on a pedestal too high. I wasn’t kidding about skinning that woman alive if I ever see her again.” Alex fumed. 

Kara chuckled and stood, stretching her back. 

“So are you gonna tell me what has you and J’onn so spooked?” Kara asked as she cleaned her glasses on her wet shirt. 

Alex huffed and ran a hand through her wet hair.

“I told you not to worry about it.” 

“Yeah, but then you rushed onto the yacht to get me saying that it was urgent and you needed me right away.” Kara interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest in a pose she used often when facing down bad guys. 

Alex sighed and gripped her forearms tightly. “Okay, well, I didn’t say ‘urgent’, I just…it’s not a big deal, okay. We just got word from Kal that Livewire escaped from prison and we’re pretty sure she’s headed west—toward us.” 

Kara’s ears had pricked at the mention of her cousin, Kal. Most people knew him by another name, by his superhero name, Superman. Kara had once flown beside him, protecting Metropolis at his side as his partner—the papers had called her The Side Super, or sometimes Powergirl, but her fame had been short lived. She had made the decision to leave her adopted family—Alex really—rashly. She’d been angry that Alex had left her to struggle through adapting to human nature all on her own while Alex went off to Med school, and Kara had flown all the way to Metropolis with the intent of dedicating her life to crime fighting and superhero work—but it had been exhausting. Not because she didn’t enjoy it, but because she seemed to have lost a very big piece of herself. She hadn’t taken the time to think about what she, Kara, wanted from a life in the city, so she’d really gotten nothing out of. 

Which of course, had brought her here, back to Midvale, with retrospectively no past, and a need to start over. 

Not only for herself. 

“Is Winn tracking her?” Kara asked, her jaw clenching slightly. 

“Of course. She’s…well, she’s not exactly hard to track. I didn’t want to tell you because she might not even be heading for Midvale—”

“But she might be.” Kara said grimly. 

She had fought Livewire before. Kal had been trapped behind unbreakable bars and every time Kara had landed a punch on her opponent, Livewire, she had simply disappeared into thin air, become electricity and fired up the cage, nearly burning Kal to breaking. It was not a pleasant memory. Eventually, Kara had stopped her, saved Kal, and handed the woman over to the authorities—clearly all were things that Livewire was not soon to forget. 

“And—she might not.” Alex stressed, sounding hopeful. She was stripping off her blazer jacket and her ruined watch, stripping down to the necessities.

Kara sighed and glanced toward the horizon as if searching for her old nemesis. She could see nothing.

The last time she had fought Livewire, she had been in a supersuit just like her cousin’s with only her fists and a desire to punch out her rage. Now, she was Kara Danvers, a sister and a mother. And all she wanted to do was protect the people she loved. 

“Alright. I’m going to go check on the boys and change—then I’ll meet you at the DEO.” Kara decided. 

“But Kara—” Alex started, uneasy.

“We need to stop her before she gets anywhere near here, Alex. This is our home. We have to protect it.” Kara said with a shrug. 

Alex looked as if she wanted to protest, but then sh seemed to cave.

“Okay, bring the pajama suit.” Alex teased as she slipped into the vehicle. 

“I will!” Kara waved. 

She waited until Alex had backed away before she closed her eyes to listen—there was no one in the parking lot. Most of the crowds had trickled into the Marina Cantina to gossip further about the mysterious couple that had arrived in the yacht and then left just as promptly and without ever really stepping on the shore, or even a proper goodbye. 

Kara rolled her shoulders and then shot into the sky, angling her body for home. 


	9. Welcome to the Danvers' House

Alex had helped Kara to find a place outside of town. It was old—with plenty of boards that creaked and windows that seemed glued shut, pipes that leaked and lights that blinked, but it was large enough for Kara and her family. There were two and a half stories, with plenty of nooks and crannies to be explored. A large kitchen and a wrap-around porch. Plus, it was far enough away from town that the traffic and late night keening of the boats in the bay didn’t bother her sensitive ears, and yet—if there was trouble, she could easily hear a scream or the fire engine sirens well enough. 

The house had come with sixteen acres attached, which Kara loved. Once, there had been walnut trees all around the house, but many of them were dead and ghostly pale. They would need to be chopped down and new grass planted. The entire front yard was nothing but dirt and old farm implements that Kara didn’t actually know the names of. But she was sure the boys loved it too—they were simply less vocal about it. 

Actually, Kara hadn’t really had the chance to talk to them much since the move, but she knew they’d been active—there were a total of three windows now that had been broken by baseballs and other flying missiles, and their play things were scattered all over the yard. 

Kara touched down on the dirt road several hundred yards away from the house, aware that there was a car parked in front of her home that she did not recognize, and it would be best to approach on foot so as not to arouse suspicion. 

As soon as her feet hit the ground, Kara heard her dogs barking in excitement and she clapped her hands as they charged down the dirt tract to her. 

“Hey! Hey Pluto; Hey Krypto!” Kara called as the large dogs jumped up to lick at her face. 

They were massive, large enough that Kara’s youngest boys still thought of them as horses. If she were not an alien, they would have bowled her right over, but Kara was sturdy and she accepted their slobbery kisses with a smile. 

Kara lifted her head when she heard the front door open and then slam.

A portly woman was lurching down the front steps, toilet paper and streamers billowing out behind her. 

Immediately, both Pluto and Krypto shot away from Kara to attack the new moving target. 

“Stay away, you wolves!” The woman shrieked. She carried a briefcase, and tried to use it as a shield of sorts, to protect herself from the beasts. “No! Stay down! Go away!”

Kara lifted her fingers to her lips and let out a single, high whistle, to which the dogs immediately fell down onto all four paws, ear pressed flat to their heads. 

“Alright guys, get inside, now!” Kara ordered. 

Her mood had been immensely brightened by the appearance of the dogs—as well as the faces of her boys pressed up against the front windows of the house, but something about the guilty looks in their eyes told her that her angels were responsible for the state of their fleeing visitor. 

“Are you Kara Danvers?” The woman demanded upon finally noticing Kara standing at the end of the lane. 

“Yeah.” Kara said with a smile. She stuck her hands in her pockets and leaned against the busted fencepost nearest her. “That’s me.”

The woman was spinning herself in circles, trying to untangle the mess of paper sprayed all around her.

"You look like you probably just had a day like I did.” Kara said with a slight frown as she stepped up closer. “Can I help you out of that? What happened?”

“My name is…Adelaide Burbage.” The woman huffed as Kara tried to help disentangle her. “I am the principle of Midvale Middle—and I came to welcome your family to the neighborhood, make sure the boys were prepared for classes to start tomorrow and what do I get in return?!” 

Kara frowned and kicked the mess to the side. She didn’t have the heart to tell Ms. Burbage that she had some toilet paper still stuck in her mousy hair. 

“I left them with instructions to bake brownies for any visitors.” Kara said with a shrug. 

“ _Brownies_.” Ms. Burbage huffed as she finally ripped away the last few pieces of toilet paper. “I was ambushed!”

“They’re just playing around.” Kara said, trying to hide a smile. 

One of the boys was making faces in the window and Kara had to swallow her chuckle.

“Just _playing around_?! Miss Danvers—they were about to douse the toilet paper with gasoline and set me on—

“Wait, wait! Stop!” Kara held up a hand, her eyes growing serious. “Let me guess—it was Colm’s idea, wasn’t it? About yea high, black curly hair—most beautiful long dark lashes you’ve ever seen in your life?” Kara described. 

“Well—yes.” The woman said, frowning.

Kara snapped. “Knew it! See, he’s having this arson period. Don’t know where it came from, but suddenly it’s all about fire and blowing things up—now, he doesn’t know this, but I’m way ahead of him…” 

Kara leaned closer, lifting a hand to whisper the secret to the middle school principal. “I’ve got two fire extinguishers ready to go.” 

Adelaide Burbage let out a half-strangled yelp and scurried as quickly as she could to her car, hardly even noticing that Kara somehow beat her to it and held the door open and ready for her. 

“Nice to meet you.” Kara saluted as the woman threw her briefcase into the backseat and leapt into the driver’s seat. 

“Your children are animals, Mrs. Danvers.” 

“You won’t think that once you get to know them.” Kara said tightly. 

The last thing her boys needed was another person telling them that they weren’t perfect, that they weren’t good enough. She was here to make sure they never had to hear another negative word in their lives. 

“Don’t you have a husband or someone to help you with those…cretins?” Ms. Burbage demanded as she struggled to jam her keys into the ignition.

Kara’s spine immediately stiffened. She didn’t like to talk about that—about the partner who had promised to always be there, to see her through till the end—the partner that had just walked out when things got too hard. 

“Quite frankly, Miss Burbage—I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Kara said solemnly. 

“I don’t ask for my own sake, Ms. Danvers, but for concern for your children—they are totally lacking in parental supervision. Chaos reigns in your house and there is no disciplinarian….”

“Look, things are a little…tight right now, but as soon as I can I’ll get a babysitter out here or something, would that satisfy you?” Kara grumbled, digging her toe into the dirt. She didn’t like talking about her parenting style with complete strangers. She knew she was away from the boys too often—it was yet another reason why she’d tried to step away from the superhero gig. But of course…being a hero was something that she couldn’t just _stop_. It was in her _blood_. 

But she could _cut back_. 

Get a normal life as Kara Danvers. Be a mom with real working hours and a social security number. Go for Jury duty. Pay taxes. Get home at a decent hour. Run out to the DEO when there were extra terrestrial threats. Maybe stop an invasion every few years or so, between dentist appointments and soccer games and whatnot. 

It was a balancing act. And Kara was still fairly new to it.

"You do understand that the public school system is not a stand in for proper child management? My teachers are not paid to babysit, but to teach—and given what I’ve just seen I am not entirely sure your children would be a beneficial addition to our carefully cultivated learning environment.” Ms. Burbage said with a slight frown.

“There is nothing wrong with my boys. They’re brilliant.” Kara shot back. 

She could feel the familiar sting of her heat vision warming up and she had to blink several times to curb it. 

Ms. Burbage simply shook her head and set her car into reverse. 

“We will see, Miss Danvers. We will see.” 

Kara kicked at the dirt as she watched the woman drive away. 

So many terrible things had happened today—and she still had Livewire to think about. 

“Mom—is everything okay?” A timid voice called from the porch. 

Kara took a deep breath and forced a smile on her face as she turned in place to open her arms to her boys who were slowly trickling out onto the porch—two were wearing army helmets, another a hockey mask, while the oldest boy, Miguel, was holding a bright red wrestling mask. 

Kara beamed up at them, her heart aching in the best way. “What—no toilet paper for me?”

The boys looked shocked for a moment, bright eyes widening as they looked to each other for confirmation—was it a trick?

Kara stuck her fists into her hips, her smile broadening. “Wow, guys—I’m feeling a little left out.” 

That did the trick. 

One of the youngest boys lifted a hockey stick, “Get her!” 

There was a collective shout as all four of Kara’s boys came charging down the steps, toilet paper and streamers and something that look suspiciously like shaving cream in their sweaty hands. 

Kara could have easily dodged them or shot up into the air to avoid the onslaught, but she simply laughed and let them knock her completely over. 

This was one of the few ways that she absolutely loved to have the breath knocked right out of her. 


	10. A Nagging Conscience...and a Curious Brother

Helena Luthor Lord was once again locked up in her private study. 

She sat on the edge of her cot, twirling the long cord of the yacht phone between her fingers.

“No, it was positively _dreadful_ , Lex. I was forbidden from going below decks to work on _my own_ engines.” Helena fumed into the phone.

“I can think of worse things—but tell me, what did you do with all that time? Did you go out and meet the locals of—what was it? Midvale? God, that’s out in the middle of nowhere—I can’t even find it on the map.” The deep voice responded. 

“Stop it, Lex. You know exactly where it is.” Helena called his bluff. 

“Then did you get some sun? Please tell me you got some sun.” 

“You know I’m allergic to the sun.” Helena sniffed as she straightened the skirt of her dress. 

There was laughter on the other end of the line. 

“That has never been scientifically proven, dear sister.”

“Remind me never to go on _vacation_ again. Now I understand why Father and Mother never took us on them when we were younger—they are a complete waste of time.” Helena observed. 

“Oh come on, didn’t you have even a little fun? You always loved going out to sea—did you see dolphins? Sharks? Did you throw Maxwell to the sharks?” Lex asked. 

Helena covered her mouth as she laughed, hoping that the sound wouldn’t carry too far. 

“No, nothing like that—but there was something that happened. It wasn’t fun, but…” Helena trailed off as she tried to think of a way to describe the sad saga that was her failed three day business venture with Kara Danvers, Midvale Carpenter. 

“Do tell.” Lex prompted, and Helena could imagine the glint of his teeth as he smiled, a golden cap here and there—her brother had always had a sweet tooth. 

Helena sighed and continued to fiddle with the cord as she began to recount her tale, from the moment she’d seen Kara Danvers standing in the middle of her library with her mouth hanging open like a fish out of water to the end, when she’d watched her swim away like a literal sea goddess to go rescue her hot tempered sister—it was not a tale for the faint of heart. 

“And the worst thing is—she was _right_ Lex.” Helena sighed into the phone. 

She was on edge, unable to shake the feeling that this was not the last she’d seen of Kara Danvers—or her pesky red-headed sister. 

“I _am_ bored. I hate these voyages—I need you to distract me. Tell me about your latest project, about the weather back home— _anything_!” Helena begged. 

She was surprised at herself. Not for having resorted to begging so vehemently, but for allowing so much emotion to choke up her voice. If it had been anyone else on the line, she would have been ashamed. 

But it was her darling older brother, and this was not the first time he had listened to her complaints in confidence. And she seriously doubted it would be the last.

“Don’t give her so much credit, Helena. I don’t think you’re any of the things she said.” Lex intoned gently. 

“Yes, but you’re… _you_.” Helena sighed as she realized it was futile to make gestures with her hands when her brother was thousands of miles away and could not see her. “You don’t count.” 

“That stings a little, sis.” Lex teased. “But seriously…Why would you care what some carpenter from Midvale thinks of you?”

Helena sighed and ran a hand over her face. She had been asking herself the same thing all evening. 

There was static on the line for a brief moment, but then Helena could _hear_ her brother smirking through the receiver. 

“Was she pretty?”

Helena guffawed and rolled her eyes, refusing to answer such a menial question. Beauty was such a subjective thing--and Kara Danvers had been absolutely gorgeous. 

“It is a valid question, little sister. Perhaps the real reason you can’t seem to forget the look of horror on her face after you heartlessly shoved her sister into the ocean is that you were really hoping to impress the pretty girl and instead you—”

“I had _every_ reason to shove her sister into the unforgiving ocean.” Helena retorted. “And why should I try to impress her? _She_ was the one _working_ _for_ _me_.”

“Ah, yes— _why_ indeed.” Lex chuckled. 

“You sound like Mother.” Helena said, a slight smile quirking her lips. “Next you’ll be telling me that I’m far too sensitive and that I’m not…” 

Helena’s smile faded at the memory of her mother’s snide remarks about her parentage, about how she wasn’t _really_ a Luthor. She’d been adopted into the Luthor family when she was young and it was the only name she could ever remember carrying…until she’d married Maxwell Lord, of course, at her mother’s recommendation. It was all part of some larger master plan, to draw Lord Industries deeper into the Luthor empire, to consolidate their assets—and of course, to wipe Helena clear of the family name, to free her from that shackle. 

The only problem was—Helena wasn’t sure she wanted to be free of it. 

“Hey, Lee—you’re still my sister, above everything else.” Lex spoke gently, as if he could sense her distress even over the long distance. 

Helena closed her eyes to better focus on his voice, to block out the laughter of the crewmen down the hall and the creaking of the bones of the vessel as the captain adjusted their heading—all she wanted was to live in a place where Lex was always with her, always nearby. It was the greatest comfort in the world to know that her brother still loved her even if their mother did not. 

“So that makes you a Luthor, even if you’re married to Lord.” Lex added. 

Helena could imagine the shrug of his broad shoulders and the way he would smile at his own logic. 

“I’m not sure that’s how that works.” Helena said softly, unable to hold back a laugh. 

“Sure it is. If I say you’re a Luthor, you’re a Luthor. And I say you are, so your husband can just fuck off.” 

Helena laughed, but then held her breath for a moment when she heard the door rattle as if someone were testing it. She narrowed her eyes at the door, but no one appeared. Helena let out her breath and leaned back against the wall, feeling a little deflated. 

“Lex—he’s talking about a baby again.” 

Helena could hear Lex take a sharp breath and she imagined the stern look he’d be giving the fireplace in their father’s study as he sipped his glass of bourbon. 

“That was never part of the agreement.” Lex said evenly, but his voice was slightly strained. 

“I know, but he got me out here, away from the company…away from _distraction_. And every night it’s the same conversation—usually when he’s drunk, but that’s all the time now. What should I do?” 

Lex was quiet for a long moment, and Helena was certain that if she concentrated hard enough, she could hear the ice clinking together in his glass. 

“You tell him that there are plenty of _other_ ways to get an heir, if that’s what he wants. You keep him at bay long enough for you to make it home, and then I’ll have a word with him—tell him to keep his filthy hands off my baby sister.”

Helena knew the subject was serious but she couldn’t help but chuckle a little at her brother’s tough tone. She knew her brother was a fierce businessman, some would even say harsh—but she had never known him to be anything but gentle toward her. 

“I can’t wait to see you.” Helena whispered. 

“How far out are you?” Lex asked around a yawn. It was late where he was. 

“Another week, probably—that’s _if_ I can convince Maxwell not to stop by his favorite club.”

“Well, as soon as you get back, we’re going forward with that zero point green energy generator you suggested. That Isotope 454 you bought might just be the ticket.” Lex informed her with a note of pride.

“Really? That’s—that’s great.” Helena hummed. She was already thinking of the notes she’d left tucked away in her office, all of the research that she’d done. Helena heard another stifled yawn on the line and she smiled fondly. 

“I should let you go—get some rest, Lex.” 

“If I sleep, will that bring you here faster?” Lex asked. 

“That is the general idea, yes.” Helena smiled into the phone. 

“See you soon, Lee.” Lex hummed. 

“See you soon, Lex.” Helena replied.

It was a reflex to end the conversation that way. Luthors don’t say goodbye. 


	11. The Storm is Coming

Kara had told Alex that she would meet her at the DEO ‘later’. But ‘later’ stretched and stretched as Kara wrestled with her boys in the dirt and helped them gather the toilet paper and streamers mess they’d made into a giant heap before she set it on fire with her laser vision—she made all four of them stand back of course. 

It was then that she thought of marshmallows and had flown inside to grab a bag and some chocolate bars—and _that_ was when that she got her first glimpse of the reigning chaos the principal woman had been talking about. 

There was stuffing leaking from the second hand furniture, drawings on the baseboards of alien villains, ketchup stains on the carpet…and there were leaflets scattered all over the floor, some even tracking up the stairs. Many of them had been colored over, the handiwork of young Julien, her artiste. 

Kara took one up and her eyebrows furrowed as she glanced over the school supplies list:

Pencils

Loose Leaf Paper

Kleenex (2)

Pens (red & black)

Crayons

Notebooks (4)

Cough Drops

Calculator

***And A SMILE 😊

Kara chuckled when she saw how Julien, in a moment of inspired brilliance had marked out the last amendment on nearly every leaflet to draw an angry red monster face, complete with horns and bulging eyes.

Kara knew they had pencils and notebooks and things somewhere around the house, in a box tucked away somewhere—she just wasn’t sure about the rest. Cough Drops? Maybe she could dig up one or two from between couch cushions or something, and Calculators? Kara knew Alex would have one or two at her lab, but what about Kleenex? If all of her boys were required to bring in two boxes—that was a lot of Kleenex. Maybe the DEO would let her raid the supply closet after taking out Livewire.

Kara lifted her head when she heard the screen door open and close and one of the twins waddled into the kitchen, picking his nose. Walter. 

“Where’s the chocolate?” Walter asked point blank as he scooted a chair closer to the table and started to haul himself up. The twins were in that stage where everything appeared to be a challenge—and they seemed to believe they could do it all on their own. Kara believed it meant they were fearless. Her friend Winn seemed to think they were just wild. 

Kara subtly slipped her hand back behind Walter and let it hover there—just in case he should pitch backwards. 

“It’s in the cabinet.” Kara muttered, still distracted as she re-read the school supplies list. 

“Hey, Mom! Like my pictures, don't you?” Julien yelled as he appeared from under the table.

“Yes, I think they’re sensational.” Kara said, flashing her son a smile as she finally set down the paper and retrieved the chocolate Walter desired. 

“Sen…Sin-sa…ay-tional?” Walter parroted, his thin eyebrows shooting together.

Kara smiled and leaned her forearms on the table, offering a nib of chocolate.

“It means—”

“That I’m the best!” Julien howled as he shot across the table in matador fashion to steal the piece of chocolate before his twin brother could claim it. 

“Hey! That one was for me!” Walter shrieked, his big grey eyes welling up with tears. 

“Hey, now—it’s okay. I have some more.” Kara soothed, putting a hand on Walter’s back to rub soothing circles. 

Kara could hear Julien cackling from somewhere up the stairs. 

“Mom! What’s taking so long? Are we gonna roast some mallows or what?” Miguel called, tapping the end of a hockey stick against the screen door to get her attention. 

“We will in a minute, Miguel—but first, we need to talk about this.” Kara said, holding up the pamphlets. 

“Why didn’t you call me about this while I was still in town? We need to get all of this stuff together before school tomorrow.” Kara sighed. 

“What? School?” Miguel guffawed. 

“That’s still a thing?” Colm called from the yard where he was still watching the fire. 

“I just figured—I don’t know…that we wouldn’t have to go.” Miguel said with a shrug. 

His wrestling mask was still strapped to his head, so his hair stuck out every which way, like black tufts of grass. 

“Yeah, school stinks!” Julien called from the landing. 

“Eat your chocolate.” Kara scolded. 

Julien squealed and his shadow disappeared. 

“It’s no big deal, we’ll just—tell them we’re poor or something.” Miguel said with a shrug.

“Miguel!” Kara almost choked. 

“Why do we have to go to the school?” Walter asked. He had his chin resting in one hand as he drew great big X’s over his brother’s drawing on the pamphlet Kara had set down. “Can’t we stay with you?”

“Or Aunt Alex? She has an alien gun!” Julien squealed from the top of the stairs. He had once again donned his army helmet and held a Nerf gun at the ready. He pointed it at Miguel through the screen door and made shooting noises, pulling the trigger even though he had long ago lost many of his foam bullets. 

“No, no—listen boys. Aunt Alex and I have jobs. Grown-up jobs. And they’re boring. You’d hate it.” Kara tried to explain. 

“What?!” Julien cried, indignant. He stood to his full height, indignant blue eyes narrowed. “Alien guns aren’t boring!” 

Julien promptly turned the Nerf gun on himself and mimed being shot and dying a rather loud, eclectic death at the top of the stairs. 

Kara rolled her eyes, a chuckle escaping, but then her smile faded as she remembered the reason Alex had an alien gun—and the reason she needed to suit up and meet her sister at the DEO.

“Miguel—grab your brother and come inside, there’s something we need to talk about.” Kara said gravely.

“What?! But the fire’s not done yet!” Colm protested loudly. 

Kara sighed and pushed away from the table. She walked briskly out onto the porch and blew a single blast of chilly air over the flames, immediately suffocating it. Colm’s lips pressed together in a pout as he marched past Kara after his brother into the house. Kara glanced once at the sky, frowning when she saw a dark thunderhead moving in.

“Alright, boys—table, now.” Kara ordered, kicking prostrate T-Rexes and army figurines out of the way as she tried to clear a path. 

“Julien!” Kara barked. “You too!”

“Somebody’s in trouble.” Walter sang, his impish face gleaming with triumph as his twin brother whimpered and tossed away his Nerf gun. 

“What’s wrong?” Miguel asked, sliding into a chair beside Walter. 

Kara was pulling blankets and flashlights from the hall closet, her determination now set once she’d realized how much time had passed. 

“You’re going away again—aren’t you.” Colm deduced as he slumped into another chair at the table. 

Julien lingered at the top of the stairs, now clad in nothing but his trainers. “I don’t want you to go! I hate it when you go!” Julien screamed, his face turning red. 

“Julien, get down here.” Kara called, her voice no longer so gentle. 

“No!” Julien shot back.

Kara pushed the blankets and flashlights and lanterns onto the table and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Miguel—would you grab him please?” Kara asked, exasperated. 

Miguel nodded dutifully and jumped up. Julien squealed at the top of the stairs and turned to run, but his older brother had lumbered up the stairs on all fours to get to him all the faster. 

“Come here you little sneak!” Miguel shouted. 

“No!” Julien shouted back. 

Kara sighed and dropped into a chair at the head of the table. She removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes, wondering how so much pressure could have built up so fast. 

“Will you be gone a long time?” Colm asked quietly. His midnight black eyes were open and honest, and if he fluttered his long eyelashes just so—Kara could never so no to him.

“No. Not for long. I promise.” Kara reassured him. 

“Is this about the Cat Lady?” Walter asked, tilting his head to one side. 

Kara laughed. “No, sweetheart. Ms. Grant— _Cat_ , isn’t a villain. She’s a regular person, just like you and Aunt Alex and your brothers and Grandma Eliza…”

“And you’re going after someone like you?” Miguel asked as he came tromping across the hall. He held a writhing Julien at arm’s length.

Kara sighed again. 

“Sort of—Livewire is different. Like me. But she’s not an alien. She was once a regular person, but then something happened, and now she’s—different.” Kara wasn’t sure she could explain it without giving her rambunctious boys any ideas about chasing lightning. 

“Different can be good.” Walter chimed, dropping his head onto the table to flop back and forth. 

“Yes—yes, it can.” Kara said with a smile. She leaned forward and touched Walter’s arm. “Listen—I know we talked about how different things would be once we came here—and they will be. I promise. But tonight there’s just something I have to do.” As Kara spoke she did her best to make eye contact with each of her boys, though Julien was still pouting and wouldn’t look in her direction. 

Colm, as always, was the first to support her. 

“Well—you’re gonna need your PJ suit.” Colm suggested. 

Walter sat up, giggling. “Yeah, the PJ suit!” 

Kara laughed as well. “Okay, it doesn’t _really_ look like pajamas.”

The boys laughed and goaded her on as she walked over to her bedroom door and unhooked the old suit from behind the door, she held it up for their general delight and twirled it a few times. Colm laughed and covered his eyes. Walter and Julien were both laughing so hard their faces were red. Miguel was laughing too, but he had decided he was too grown up to roll around on the floor like the twins. 

Kara grinned and then used her superspeed to rush into her bedroom to change and then run back out. She crossed her arms over her chest and then caught sight of the clock over the kitchen sink. 

“Now, I want you boys in bed in twenty minutes, okay? You have school tomorrow, and you need to get some rest. But remember, if you hear Aunt Alex’s distress signal on the radio—” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know—into the bunker.” Miguel grumbled as he swept up the rather large pile of supplies Kara had accumulated in his arms. He started the long climb up the stairs, encumbered by the blankets and flashlights. Colm had thought to grab the radio, but he trailed behind, trying to urge the twins up the steps ahead of him.

“The bunker stinks.” Julien complained. 

“Nu-huh!” Walter immediately disagreed. “Only if you make a fart!”

“You’re a farthead!” Julien shot back.

“Am not!” Walter hissed. 

“Will you be home when we wake up?” Colm asked over his shoulder.

Kara shrugged and switched off the kitchen light. 

“Hope so.”

Kara ducked outside and locked the door behind her. She paused on the front step, her eyebrows knitting together when she saw how the thunderhead had grown. 

Normally, she would not concern herself with it, as storms often rolled in quickly from the sea. But this storm was not coming from the sea—it appeared to be _heading_ to sea, and coming at them from the Mainland—and it was already lit from within by lightning. 


	12. A Rash, Sentimental Decision...

Helena Luthor Lord despised the fact that she had to leave her study to prepare for bed, but there was no way around it. All of her nightwear was in her closet—the infamous closet that Kara Danvers had remodeled. 

Helena crossed into the master bedroom with her head held high so she would not have to look directly at Maxwell lounging on the large bed. He had a bowl of popcorn propped between his knees as he watched something with a lot of crying on the television set into the wall directly across from the bed. 

“Must you watch that thing incessantly?” Helena asked as she crossed to her closet and promptly closed the door behind her. She despised the oak in the room and took a moment to glare at the lousy excuse for a shoe rack that had been constructed in one corner before she went to the bureau drawers that held her nightgowns. 

“Yes, my angel. I’m afraid I—”

“Sorry—what was that? Can’t hear you!” Helena taunted from the safety of her closet. 

“I SAID: Yes, darling, I’m Afraid I must!” Maxwell shouted a little louder.

Helena rolled her eyes and pushed the door open just enough to poke her head around it. 

“Maxwell, dear, keep it down. You’ll frighten the staff.” 

Helena was in a much better mood after having expunged Kara Danvers from her life, and of course, a phone call with her brother always lifted her spirits. 

_You remember. The pain. The heartbreak._ An announcer’s voice called from the television. 

Maxwell tossed a kernel of popcorn up into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

_The most controversial season finale in ‘Bachelor’ history_. _But what you don’t remember—is the happy ending, because Brad lost it all. But this season, Brad’s back and that means more girls, more roses—and another chance at love._

Helena frowned and eyed her husband. “Could you please turn that down—or better yet…off?” 

“Sorry, cupcake. It has a tawdry escapist quality that soothes my nerves.” Maxwell shrugged as he deliberately turned the volume up.

“What you have to escape from, I can’t possibly imagine.” Helena murmured as she slammed her closet door a little more forcefully than she usually would have dared. 

She was surprised when the force of it seemed to send the whole ship pitching forward. Helena caught ahold of the door handle and was able to keep her footing, but she heard Maxwell cry out as he undoubtedly fell off the bed. 

_Rough seas? A storm?_ Helena wondered as the sounds of crewmen jumping to life and running up and down the hallways above her head reached her ears. She did not, as of yet, hear any alarm bells, so she took that to mean there was no immediate danger, just a bit of an undercurrent—which she could handle as long as she was on a ship surrounded by ocean rather than in a plane surrounded by nothing but air.

Helena crossed back to her chest of drawers and tugged out a simple nightgown, sighing when she saw the Lord monogram on the front. 

“Are you alright, Madam? Sir?” Helena heard the butler, Andrew, calling from the master suite. She did not deign to answer. She was still upset with him for having brought Kara Danvers into her midst in the first place. 

“Oh yes, we’re just _smashing_ , Andrew.” Maxwell responded heatedly. “And by _smashing_ , I mean smashing into things! What the hell is going on up there?”

Helena let the nightgown slip through her fingers and turned toward the back of the closet, her eyes narrowing as she thought once again of the _Carpenter_ —of that Kara Danvers.

“I do apologize, sir, but there appears to be a sudden squall on the horizon. Captain Karl is doing his best to avoid it.” Andrew responded blithely. 

“Well tell him to try _harder_! I’m missing the limos!” Maxwell wailed as he tried to cradle the television screen that had been reduced to simple static and no picture.

Helena did not care if Maxwell was missing his stupid soap opera. She was more concerned with what she might be missing. She crossed to the back of her closet and knelt beside her boxes of lingerie, her eyebrows ticking closer together as she opened them one by one and realized every single box was empty. 

“Where did you put them, _Kara_?” Helena muttered under her breath. She swept the long train of her dress aside as she rose once again to her feet, almost stumbling as the ship jolted a little. 

Helena bit her lip and crossed slowly back to the corner where the shoe rack continued to gleam like newly polished—well, it _was_ newly polished wood. Helena had eyed every cabinet above her head and come to the conclusion that nothing up there had been changed. But she still had no idea where all of her lingerie had gone—not that she intended to wear it for Maxwell’s sake. She had only ever bought them because she wanted some part of her wardrobe to be hers—to not have the Lord insignia monogramed on every single sleeve or inside the collar. Because inside, she still felt like a Luthor, and the Luthor ‘ **L** ’ was simple and bold, no embellishments, no lies. 

Helena ran her hands over the smooth sides of the base of the ‘rack’, her frown deepening when she noticed there was in fact a drawer built into the housing unit for the strange moving display of shoes. Helena tugged at the knob—one that was in the shape of a dolphin, dark granite. 

Helena rolled her eyes at the _Carpenter_ 's clear attempt to win her over with by incorporating the cutesy animal into the design. It was no secret she liked dolphins—they were on a sea-faring yacht for crying out loud. The imagery was everywhere. 

Helena let out a sigh of relief when she saw that her lingerie had indeed been transferred to this single drawer, if she pulled it out far enough, she could see each set on display for easy selection. Still—the _Carpenter_ had set her lingerie with her shoes? Helena did not see the connection. She had never stored her underwear with her shoes in her life. It seemed nonsensical. 

_Ingrate_. 

The ship bucked again, taking a hard left and Helena shot out her arm to steady herself. She had ceased to be able to hear Maxwell’s moaning, and she hoped he had decided to take enough pills to knock himself out until the storm passed.

Helena stood gingerly and slipped out of her yellow dress. Then she reached down and grabbed a random pair of undergarments to slip into. She kept her heels on.

Helena slipped her yellow dress over its hanger and hung it on the back of the closet door for Jess to take for cleaning in the morning. She froze when she heard shouts above and a terrible crack overhead. 

Helena grabbed one of her robes and slipped it on before peeking around her closet door. Maxwell was still on the bed, but he appeared knocked out. He was wearing a mask over his eyes and the popcorn had spilled all over the room. 

“Maxwell.” Helena called as she crossed the room to turn off the useless television. 

She was rewarded with a groan, which told her that her husband had not in fact drowned himself in medication. 

“Maxwell, it’s storming.” Helena clucked her tongue as she crossed to the bay windows. She could see the waves rising angrily—but above them, she could see the sky splintering into fragments. Lightning spidering across the sky as if reaching for something. It wasn’t coming to earth, but was instead jumping from cloud to cloud. 

“Well, what do you expect _me_ to do about it, Helena? I can’t control the weather.” Maxwell grumbled, turning onto his side.

“You could give a damn, would that be so hard?” Helena muttered, her eyebrows coming together as she watched what looked like a nail roll across the floor as the ship bobbed and creaked. 

“Maxwell—my jewelry. It’s still out on the deck!” Helena suddenly exclaimed. 

“Well what can I do, cupcake?” Maxwell mumbled, nuzzling into his pillow. 

Helena rounded on him, her anger making her green eyes dance in the dark. 

“You could go and get it!” Helena snarled.

“It’s after midnight!” Maxwell whined. 

“I don’t care what time it is! My—my wedding ring’s up there!” Helena was grasping at straws. Her wedding ring was in fact up there, but there was something else as well. A pendant that had belonged to her birth mother. Lex had found it in a box with Lena’s adoption papers hidden away among their father’s things—clearly Lillian had tried to keep it all locked away for some reason. But Lex had thought that Lena should have it, and he had given it to her on the night before her wedding. Usually, Helena was not one for sentimentality, but it was one of the few items in her possession that she could not bear thinking of at the bottom of the ocean. 

“Please, Maxwell. I want it now.”

“For God’s sake, Helena, stop shouting! We’re in the middle of a bloody hurricane! I can get you another one when we pull into port if it’s that important to you—” 

Helena’s lips curled into a disgusted snarl. 

That was how Maxwell approached every issue—money could replace what was lost. Money could buy happiness. Money could make them gods. If her wedding ring were lost at sea, he could simply replace it. Get another. An adornment. Because the significant meaning behind the trinket was lost to him. Granted, Helena saw no greater meaning in her wedding ring than the contract she had made with this man, but the pendant—it was something that she could not replace. She had no memory of her birth mother. And the pendant was special to her. 

“Nevermind. I’ll get it myself.” Helena growled, already storming away from the window, heading for the door.

Maxwell sighed and pulled a pillow over his head, “Okay.”


	13. If Some Lady Falls Off a Yacht, and There's No One Around to Shout, "Overboard!" ...Did it Even Happen?

Helena Luthor Lord was not prone to seasickness. 

But the rocking of the boat was much more pronounced on deck. The great waves washed over the deck, slicking it down, and the yacht rose and fell with each wave, as if the Captain were steering them right into the heart of the storm. 

The crewmen were shouting to each other in Mandarin—and Helena knew that something was terribly wrong. They were arguing about moving forward at all—arguing about shutting down the yacht to just wait out the storm. 

Helena dropped down to her knees and tugged herself carefully along the rails, keeping her eyes fixed on the deck chair where Jess had carelessly placed her jewels that morning as she lathered her with sunblock. 

_Why haven’t I fired her yet?_

Another great wave crashed over the side of the yacht, and Helena was soaked immediately. The water was freezing. Helena’s teeth started chattering right away. 

She was sure that this was a terrible idea, but she was stubborn. And she refused to turn back.

Up ahead, there was another loud crash, but Helena found it odd. There hadn’t been consistent thunder yet. It almost sounded like—punches. But that was absurd. 

The sky was lit up with more lightning, and Lena could see the pile of finery clearly. 

She lunged for the deck chair.

Helena managed to wrap her fingers around a string of pearls that was wrapped around her pendant, but just then the yacht was buffeted by an exceptionally strong wave. Helena grabbed onto the rail and managed to stay upright as the yacht adjusted. She glared down defiantly at the white crested waves. She could hear deck chairs scrapping creakily along the deck as the momentum drove them from their places, but she refused to let go until the deck felt sturdy beneath her feet again. 

There was another crash up above, and someone on the boat shouted as the sky lit up like it hadn’t before—as if a small sun or something had exploded bigger and louder than anything that had come before.

Helena lifted one hand to shield her eyes and instinctively took a step back. 

Her heel caught on something and Helena lost her balance.

She fell forward, this time unable to grab onto the rail and tumbled unceremoniously into the ocean. 

_Damnit._

The shock was not such that she didn’t immediately think to cry out. She gasped and choked on the saltwater. 

“Captain Karl! Help!” Helena sputtered. The lights of the yacht were illuminating her as she struggled to keep her head above the choppy water, but no one was ringing the bell—no one was shouting, “Woman Overboard!”

“Help! Andrew! Captain Karl! Anyone! Help! Stop the boat, you idiots and turn around!” Helena called desperately. 

The yacht did not stop. 

The sky had gone quiet up above. There was no more lightning. 

Helena flailed her arms and shouted until her throat was sore, but everyone it seemed had taken cover from the storm belowdecks and no one saw her in the water. 

“Damn you!” Helena screamed, her fury making her forget for a moment to try to move with the waves, and one crashed over her, pushing her down into the dark. 


	14. Breaking News

An unobtrusive sun rose over the _Imaculata_ , casting gentle rays over the deck that had taken such a beating the night before. Crewmen were up before the sun, scurrying around to try to put to rights the scattered deck chairs, dry out the doused cushions, and gather all of Mrs. Lord’s scattered jewelry that had spilled over galley. 

Belowdecks had not faired much better, pots and pans had been strewn about in the kitchens, and water had leaked into the engine room. There were three crewmen with flashlights scouring the piping for leaks. 

And yet, the sunlight that poured in through the master suite windows was gentle, and Maxwell continued to snooze, curled around his pillow. 

Captain Karl sent his man to run a full sweep of their systems while he continued to man the wheel, but most everything seemed in order. The crewman flipped the breaker once, and all the rooms that had gone dark during the storm suddenly glowed with life and the emergency lights switched off. 

In the Master suite, Maxwell’s television clicked on, the early morning news report began grinding away at top volume, slowly grinding through Maxwell’s stupor.

_“…Snout good morning to you! This is Wilbur Bud here at KRAB, the family station and competitor to CATG and it’s ilk over in Midvale. Anywho, we’ve got some excitement today in town—and I’m not just talking about that crazy storm that our competitors have claimed to be the work of nefarious criminals—I’m talking about the appearance of our mystery woman!_ ”

Maxwell blindly reached for the remote, a headache coming on. 

_“I’ve got a bulletin for the eyewitness on the spot for KRAB newsroom. It seems a mysterious woman was picked up by the Cove garbage scow shortly after midnight last night. They fished her out of the water and she’s conscious. But the problem is she seems to be suffering from amnesia. That’s right, everybody! Amnesia! She has no recollection of who she is. My wife Rose is with the captain of the garbage scow that picked up the mystery lady, Rose?_ ”

“Sir, will it be eggs benedict this morning?” Andrew’s droll voice cut through the boring interview, helping Maxwell to gather his wits enough to fling off his sleeping mask. 

“Yes of course it’s eggs benedict, Andrew! Now get out!” Maxwell tossed aside his sleeping mask in frustration and rubbed aggressively at his eyes. 

“Very good sir.” Andrew said with a stiff bow. 

Maxwell groaned and lifted his eyes when he heard the woman on the screen chiding her interviewee.

_“No, no—Mr. Tunatti, you can’t say that on live television!_

_“Why not? We say—foca! Foca! Foca!”_

Maxwell laughed and glanced down to retrieve a few of the popcorn kernels that had gathered on his blankets, deciding he would find the remote later.

“ _Oh, yes, well—apparently ‘Foca’ means seal in Portuguese, so—I guess that’s alright to say._ ” The reporter admitted. “ _But to clarify, Mr. Tunatti, this mystery woman looked like a seal in the water?_ ”

“ _Yes, yes—we saw something ahhh—float in the water like this, just like that._ ” The man on the screen lifted his arms and dropped his head to illustrate the lifeless way this mystery woman had been floating in the water. 

Maxwell laughed and tossed the stale popcorn into his mouth once more. 

“ _Yes, yes—that’s a…a very good impression._ ” The reporter woman was looking to the camera, clearly ready to conclude the interview as the men around her, other crewmen of the garbage scow perhaps, continued to shout ‘foca!’ and imitate seals barking. 

“Cupcake!” Maxwell shouted from the corner of his mouth. “You’re missing some really good stuff! These hicktown personalities are hilarious!” 

“ _So, ahh—we didn’t know what it was—we think foca, but maybe not. So we bring it on board—she had no clothes! Just a little thing on a—”_

“ _Okay! Thank you, Mr. Tunatti, that was—enlightening!_ ” The reporter cut in quickly, her eyes growing wide at the implications of what the man was saying. 

“Sir, has Mrs. Lord made mention of her breakfast requests to you?” Andrew asked as he appeared quite suddenly in the doorway once more. 

Maxwell shook his head and shooed the butler away as he laughed at the garbage man serenading the reporter on his television set. 

“Sir—it is of some importance that we do not displease her further. Yesterday she said the pancakes were too heavy and the day before that she threw out all of the fruit—” Andrew persisted. 

Maxwell groaned and tossed his head back.

“ _Well, would you look at that, we have a Renaissance Garbage Man right here in Elk Snout._ ”

“Fine, fine—I’ll ask her.” Maxwell groaned as he bonelessly slid from the bed. He cried out and jumped back when his bare foot landed on something sharp—something that felt suspiciously like a nail. 

“Are you quite alright, Sir?” Andrew asked, concerned as he stepped into the room. 

“Yes, I’m fine!” Maxwell snapped as he sat back on the bed and elevated his foot so his butler could remove whatever had lodged itself into his sensitive skin.

“ _Alright now folks, we have a tape now to show you—an interview we filmed earlier at the hospital with the mystery woman herself!_ ” The news anchor called enthusiastically. Maxwell thought he looked like a bug with the large spectacles on his nose and no hair on his head. 

“ _Arnie—roll the tape!_ ”

“This might sting a little, Sir.” Andrew warned as he kneeled close to his master’s injury. The nail was in fact penetrating deeply and Andrew reached into his vest pocket for the emergency stash of gauze he kept there. 

“Just do it!” Maxwell snapped, fed up with the despicable pain he was feeling. He gritted his teeth, preparing for the pain to get _even worse_ , when his eyes flitted back to the tv screen and his mouth dropped open. 

The reporter woman from before, Rose, with her curly hair and dumpy face, appeared on the screen once more, standing beside a much more striking figure laid out on a hospital bed. The figure was pale, paler than moonlight, with thick black hair that was matted and clearly needed to be combed—but it was the eyes. Green like soft spring—sheathed in an impenetrable case of ice tinted blue. 

Maxwell knew her immediately. 

Instinctively he glanced toward the closet across the room, but he knew now that there was no one hiding away inside. 

“ _Miss, miss…do you know your name?_ ” The reporter, Rose, asked eagerly, holding out her phone to record the reply more clearly. 

“ _Of course I know my name!_ ” The mystery woman wearing Helena’s face proclaimed in Helena’s voice. 

Andrew stiffened, unceremoniously pulling the nail from Mr. Lord’s foot as he turned his head expectantly, sure that he had just heard Mrs. Lord’s voice. 

“Dash it, Andrew—I’m bleeding out!” Maxwell exclaimed trying to staunch the blood with his tie. 

The butler had risen slowly to his feet and stood transfixed, his eyes bulging as he stared at the screen—at Mrs. Lord scrunching her eyebrows together as she desperately tried to remember who she was. 

“ _I—I know it, I do, just—this is absurd. Everyone knows their own name. I know my name, I know I do. Just—just give me a moment to think!_ ” Helena cried out in some distress as she pushed the woman’s intrusive hand away and reached up to rub at her temples. 

The butler turned on his heel, his usually stern face rather pale as he stepped briskly from the room. 

“Captain Karl! Ahoy, Captain! We have to turn the yacht around—yes, that’s right. Turn the bloody boat around, for God’s sake!”


	15. Mr. (and Mrs(?)) Smith

It was raining in Elk Snout, the largest city within a fifty-mile radius of Midvale, with a population of less than 20,000 people. The gloom seemed to permeate the air and sink down deep into the people who walked the streets. 

Maxwell shrank further and further back in the seat of the rented car as they drove down droll little streets toward the hospital—the hospital where they were keeping his wife. He could see through his window that the entrance to the hospital was blocked—there were reporters everywhere. From Midvale and Lowcove and Elk Snout and Hermit’s Knell…the entire eastern half of the state seemed to have decided that the amnesiac woman pulled from the sea was big news. 

“Could you maybe—get around to the back entrance?” Maxwell asked a little nervously of the driver. 

“Sorry, sir—this is the only way in.” The driver apologized. 

Maxwell swallowed and adjusted his tie as the limousine tentatively inched through the front gates and around the traffic cones set up in a hurry to divert the added traffic. Immediately the immaculate vehicle was beset by reporters in trench-coats and ponchos, several had the audacity to peer into the windows. 

Maxwell recoiled and tugged the hat he had borrowed from one of the yacht crewmen low over his eyes and turned up the collar of his naval jacket. His stomach was in knots. Andrew had insisted that he journey straight to the hospital to bring back his wife, had made all of the arrangements for the car and the driver—all Maxwell had to do was follow orders. 

He had not been informed about the mob watching with baited breath. 

The driver, a local man from Elk Snout, seemed surprised by the attention at first, but then slowed down to an even slower crawl and began smiling and waving to the reporters pressing up against his fenders and leaning on his hood. 

“Oh for God’s sake man—just get me to the hospital!” Maxwell shouted. 

“Yes sir. ‘scuse me—out of the way!” The driver began honking and the tires squealed as the limousine lurched forward the last few feet to the curb just outside the hospital doors. 

Maxwell waited impatiently, blinking his eyes from behind his sunglasses when a particularly powerful camera flashed just beyond his window. 

“Excuse me!” Maxwell called, risking a peek over his collar. “Aren’t you going to let me out?” 

"The doors’re unlocked sir.” The driver shrugged. 

Maxwell huffed and made a show of opening his door. 

The closest reporters squealed and leapt back, several turning iPhones and camcorders in his direction. 

Maxwell swiveled his plaster-encased leg out over the sidewalk and slowly went about the business of unfolding himself from the seat. The cast was of course completely unnecessary, but he enjoyed the sympathy he received immensely. 

“Excuse me, sir—who are you?” Someone off to the left demanded. 

“Are you here about our mystery woman?” Another demanded.

“We’re calling her Annie Amnesia—that’s trademarked!” Someone in the back shouted. 

“Alright, alright—everybody back!” The limo driver suddenly appeared to help clear the way, realizing that his passenger had been surrounded like a lamb thrown to wolves. 

Maxwell ducked his head down and limped into the hospital, doing his best to hold his nose. He hated the smell of hospitals—much as he hated the taste of tapwater. 

“Ah—are you Mister Smith?” A nurse in blue scrubs hailed Maxwell. 

Maxwell frowned and lifted his head, but did not remove his glasses, or his hat, or his oversized coat. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“We got a call from a—some guy named Andrew? Said you’d be on your way to make an Identification on our Jane Doe?” The nurse spoke slowly, suspecting that the man behind the sunglasses was either inebriated or very, very slow. 

“Oh, yes, umm—that’s me. Mr. Smith. May I speak to your superior please? This is a very delicate matter and—" 

“Follow me.” The nurse said bluntly, turning on her heel to lead Maxwell through the rather run down hospital. 

Maxwell sighed and leaned heavily on his crutches as he limped after her, hoping that no one of consequence would ever see him like this. 


	16. Liberation!

Maxwell was eventually introduced to several doctors and other personnel. 

He was grateful for this for two reasons. 1) They seemed more sympathetic to his obvious temporary handicap than the upstart nurse who had first found him, and 2) They were men. 

Men were creatures that Maxwell felt he could relate to on a personal level. 

After some hushed discussion, they seemed to grasp the gravity of his situation and agreed to take him to a special room where psychiatrists usually lurked to observe their patients through two-way glass. 

Maxwell found it all very exciting. 

He was still shocked however, to see his wife in something as drab as the hospital gown the nurses had somehow forced on her—she looked almost— _plain_. Not greased up and fiery like she did in her little suits she wore in the labs or stunning and no-nonsense like she did when she dressed for conferences and corporate meetings. Not even refined, as she did when she really wasn’t trying very hard to impress and lounged around the estate. 

She looked—worn down. Rugged. 

Her face wasn’t just pale, it was wan and her green eyes were glassy. 

And no one had brushed her hair yet. 

Maxwell was a little frightened when he saw her.

Helena was going over some packet of documents the doctors had handed her—and he could tell from the way her eyebrows were scrunched together that she was _not happy_. The doctors seemed to have picked up her mood as well—they gave her a fairly wide berth and exchanged furtive glances quite frequently, clearly afraid of her. 

“You mean to tell me that I have no medical recourse?” Helena suddenly demanded. 

Her voice was so sharp and cutting that Maxwell ducked his head slightly on reflex. 

“You’re sure she can’t see us?” Maxwell whispered to the doctor beside him,

The doctor laughed and scratched at the scruff growing along his chin. “Not unless she’s Superwoman.” He quipped. 

“Please stop looking at me like that.” Helena snapped icily, her jaw clenched as she rather aggressively jammed the various papers into the manila folder once again, “Just tell me what my options are. I’m not a child, I am perfectly capable of—”

“There are no options.” One of the specialists said bluntly.

“Faith.” The other hissed.

The doctor, Faith, ignored her colleague and stepped slightly forward, sticking her hands down deep into her coat pockets. 

“To put it frankly, Miss, you have amnesia, brought on either from the bump to the head you suffered when you ran into the garbage scow or even the shock of the cold water could have been enough to trigger it. We believe it’s only temporary, but the fact of the matter is—if we knew who you were, if you had a support system of sorts, we could recommend exercises for you and your loved ones to start right away, to try to trigger some memories and help you on the way to recovery—but you arrived with no identification…there’s very little we can do at the moment.”

“But, on the plus side—otherwise you seem to be in excellent physical health.” The other doctor in the room interjected with a thumbs up. 

“Listen, I know it may be difficult for you to understand…” Helena began slowly and with venom, “But try for a moment—to broaden your creative faculties just enough to grasp what I have been _trying_ to tell you medical people ever since I arrived—I have people looking for me. They will know what to do and who I am. You can’t just—lock me up in here. Not when I belong somewhere else!”

“I’m sorry, but without a medical history—” The doctor sighed. 

“History?!” Helena snapped. 

She had risen from her chair and glared from one doctor to the other with an intensity that Maxwell was all too familiar with. 

“My entire _history_ at the moment can be summed up in three words—garbage, runny eggs, and _incarceration_! I awoke from nothing but darkness on a filthy garbage scow and was welcomed into this _unforgiving_ world with a breakfast of runny eggs _over easy_ —and now you want to lock me away in this flimsy excuse for a hospital _indefinitely_ while no efforts are being made to locate my next of kin!” 

Maxwell winced and adjusted his hold on his crutches. 

The bearded doctor beside Maxwell turned, his lips pursed tightly. 

“Is that her?” He asked, unable to keep the hopeful tint from his voice. 

Maxwell was already limping toward the door, dragging his semi-injured foot behind him as he struggled with the handle. 

“Nope. Sorry. Never seen her before in my life!” Maxwell called without looking back. 

A nurse walking by opened the rattling door and jumped back as Maxwell careened down the hallway as fast as his crutches could take him. 

He didn’t look back. 

He felt—liberated. As if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

As soon as he was secured in the backseat of the limousine, ducked down low to avoid the flashing of cameras, he tugged out his phone and called his yacht. 

“Captain Karl—start up the engines. Mrs. Lord has decided to leave me—that’s right. I know! Set a course for Spain—I feel like celebrating!”


	17. Mrs. X, Origin Unknown. Place of Residence: Elk Snout Regional Hospital

The doctors and nurses of Elk Snout Regional Hospital congregated in a nondescript supply closet—the taint of helplessness heavy in the air. 

“He said he’d never seen her before.” The bearded doctor reiterated, the lines on his face deepening. 

“ _Please_ —he’s lying through his teeth.” One of the nurses snorted. 

“It doesn’t matter if he lied or not.” Faith insisted. “Without documentation—without signed consent, we have nothing.” 

“So we’re stuck with her?” One of the nurses asked nervously. Her beautiful tan complexion looked ashen at the prospect. 

“For now.” Faith sighed, rubbing at her temples.

“Not necessarily…” Her bearded colleague said with a snap of his fingers, a mischievous smile brightening his features.

A few moments later, the doctors and nurses filed out of the supply closet, a new plan of action against their belligerent guest lifting their spirits. 

Two orderlies were called in and soon the mystery woman was escorted out of the semi-private wing toward a more— _private_ sector of the hospital. 

“Here we are, Miss…ahh, Miss X, we have a comfortable private room for you where you’ll be safer, _we’ll_ all be safer, and you’ll be a lot more comfortable while we try to get this all sorted out…” An orderly explained as he shepherded the mystery woman down the hall as he would a poisonous sheep prone to exploding. 

“Well, I’m glad you finally came to your senses.” The mystery woman said with a slight upturn of her nose. “I _was_ prepared to sue you for unlawful detainment. I don’t know who I am, but I’m sure I have a lawyer.”

"Yes, I’m sure you do.” The orderly crooned as he signaled to his colleague to close the door. 

It was labeled _Psych Ward_.


	18. The Superfriends Hatch a Plan

Several miles away, in Midvale, Alex Danvers and several other DEO operatives were relaxing in their favorite dive bar—it was the only bar in town. Dressed in civilian clothing, the agents blended right in with the rowdy after dark crowd, but Alex seemed more subdued than usual as she stared at the bottom of her glass, her brown eyes far away. 

“Hey—penny for your thoughts?” The woman beside her asked. She was dressed in uniform, one of several soldiers who had mysteriously appeared in town right about the time the incredibly peculiar lightning storm had struck a few nights ago. 

Alex shrugged and tipped back her beer with a smirk. “They’re worth more than that, Lane.”

“Come on, Alex. Lighten up. Please! You promised to be my wingwoman!” The young man sitting across from Alex begged. He was wearing a vest and a bow tie, his messy hair slicked back.

Alex rolled her eyes while the woman beside her laughed and lifted a hand to call over the tall gentleman bringing their drinks.

“Well, for starters, I told you to dress casually—what’s with the hair gel?” Alex inquired, making a face. 

“Don’t listen to her—it makes you look smooth.” The other young man of their circle interrupted as he set down the tray with their next round and slid into the booth beside the young woman in uniform. 

“Easy for you to say you’ve got the—” Winn Schott stammered, gesturing toward James Olsen as he searched for the right word. “—And the—well, you’re _oozing charm_. So just stop it.” 

“He’s right. You are.” Lucy Lane grinned as she placed a hand affectionately on James Olsen’s cheek. 

“I try.” James grinned as he took Lucy’s hand and kissed it. 

“Okay, well stop trying and just focus. Please, for like…more than a second.” Winn cut in. 

He talked with his hands, waving them about so much that he almost knocked over their glasses. 

“Hey, hey—whoa.” Alex reacted quickest, immediately reaching out to steady the bumped glasses with a glare at her colleague and friend. Her glare was one to be feared, but tonight she was a little distracted and her eyes kept catching on something far away—something just over Winn’s shoulder in the darker corners of the bar. 

“Sorry.” Winn apologized without meaning it as he adjusted his bowtie. He leaned forward toward his friends, his expression very intense. “But I’m serious, guys—this is the first night off we’ve had in _forever_! And I have to strike while our—fearless ladies in uniform are still in town or I’ll miss my chance!” 

“The ladies in uniform are the hardest to catch.” James Olsen said seriously with a wink to his girlfriend beside him. 

“Okay, well, that does nothing to boost my confidence.” Winn sighed, reaching for a random glass in the formation in the center of their table. 

“Listen, Winn, as one of said ladies in uniform—I know these girls. They’re my friends. And they will _crush_ _you_ if they smell fear.” Lucy Lane advised with a dainty sip of her martini. 

“Ughh!” Winn dropped his forehead down onto the table with a groan. “You guys are no help. Where’s Kara? I thought she said she’d be here?” 

“She wanted to oversee the prison transfer for Livewire—they’re sending her to Stryker prison, but Kara didn’t trust the local station to hold her overnight.” Alex muttered, distractedly. 

“Hey—what is with you tonight?” Lucy Lane asked as she tapped her friend’s shoulder lightly. 

“Yeah—is something bugging you?” James Olsen asked, concern clouding his open and easy expression. 

By all rights—Alex should be just as carefree and relaxed as the rest of their friends. Kara had defeated Livewire and put a stop to her evil plans before any real damage had even been inflicted to the western seaboard. It was another victory for the agency—one that no civilian would ever read about, but one that had left all of the tactical agents and U.S. soldiers involved feeling proud of their accomplishment. 

Everyone had been in high spirits when Livewire had been led away.

Everyone but Alex.

Alex huffed and glared at her beer bottle. 

She squinted at it for a long moment before she seemed to make a decision and set it down on the table with a soft ‘smack’. 

“Do you really want to know what’s bugging me?” Alex asked, the bottled up anger starting to rise. 

“Yes, of course we do.” Lucy answered quickly. 

“What is it?” James and Winn both asked at the same time. 

Alex sat up straighter in her seat, her motions a little choppy because the four beers she’d had were finally starting to settle. 

“I’m thinking about Vasquez.” Alex announced with an angry frown on her face. 

James frowned and glanced between his friends to see if they were having better luck sorting out the relevance of such an admission. 

“Vasquez?” Lucy repeated, confusion making her voice lilt upwards. 

“Yes.” Alex nodded curtly, her eyes narrowing even further. 

“Okay.” Winn drew out the two syllables and then gulped. “Why?”

“Because she’s just—she makes me so _mad_!” Alex snapped, her face going a little red. 

Winn seemed a little buffeted by the force of Alex’s words and he lifted his head quickly, his eyes sweeping the bar nervously—afraid that their colleague Susan Vasquez may be in the vicinity. 

“Why—what’s she done?” James asked.

“We are talking about the tech, right? The one from the DEO?” Lucy asked in a whisper that was a little louder than a whisper because she too had had more than two drinks in the last hour. 

“Yeah, she’s Winn’s superior.” James answered easily, sipping from his straw. 

Winn scoffed. “No, no—she’s not my _superior_ exactly—I mean, _yes_ she’s been working there longer than me, but in the grander scheme of things, I think we all should be judged on what we contribute, and I happen to contribute _quite a lot_ of invaluable—”

“It doesn’t matter!” Alex interrupted, slamming a fist down on the table. “What _matters_ is that she’s being stingy and all I asked was for her to do some digging on those snobby rich jerks who jilted Kara out of a reference _and_ proper compensation for that beautiful closet she built, and _what does she say_? ‘ _Sorry, DEO resources aren’t meant to be used for petty personal vendettas, Alex!_ ’ I can’t believe her!” Alex fumed. 

“Do I _look_ like I have a vendetta?!” 

“Wow, that does sound kind of harsh.” Winn agreed. 

“I mean, I get where she’s coming from, but still—if it’s for Kara…” James trailed off. 

“Exactly!” Alex seethed. “You’d think she’d want to help our resident hero as much as she helps us, but instead she’s…”

“I’m sorry, am I the only one who has no idea what she’s talking about?” Lucy asked the boys. 

“Well you see…” Winn began, leaning forward so he could relate the tale even though he did not lower his voice at all, “Before you guys got here there was this yacht that just showed up out of nowhere and it sat in the bay for like…three days, just idling and everyone was freaking out because these people were so cool, but they really weren’t cool because they were mean to Kara and the lady even pushed Alex overboard…”

“Winn, shut up. It’s my story.” Alex interrupted, shooting him a glare. 

“What? I’m just giving her the short version.” Winn protested. 

“You know what—you see that woman back there? The one playing pool?” Alex changed tact, her eyes narrowing. 

Winn immediately spun around in his seat, peering into the smoke and gloom to search out the woman Alex had spotted.

“Where? The short one in the jacket or the—”

“Yes, that one. The pretty one.” Alex stated, snatching up Winn’s beer while his back was turned. “I know you had your heart set on a lady in uniform, but she looks about your size—maybe she wouldn’t pulverize you completely if you went and said hello.” 

“You think?” Winn was already lurching to his feet, alcohol and Alex’s endorsement giving him the confidence he usually would have lacked. 

“Oh yes, definitely.” Alex drawled, smirking. 

“Alright—wish me luck!” Winn saluted before darting off to try his luck with the gorgeous young woman with raven black hair currently cueing up the 8 ball.

“That was mean, Alex.” Lucy stated as soon as Winn was out of hearing. 

“What are you talking about? She’s perfect for him—she’s not too tall, and isn’t hanging out with the bikers over there which is promising and she has _dimples_ which means she likes to laugh. Which, by the way, means that when Winn stumbles all over himself like a confused puppy she won’t just punch him and be done with it.” Alex pointed out matter of factly. 

“But she’s playing pool.” James returned just as dryly. 

“So?” Alex shrugged as she turned Winn’s glass upside down to set beside the other empties. 

“So—Winn’s terrible at every game known to man except internet checkers.” James said with a wince as one of the balls from the pool table went whizzing off overhead. 

Alex could hear Winn’s stammered apologies drifting their way and facepalmed. 

It seemed her lovable little brother friend was embarrassing her again. 

“Plus…I’m pretty sure she’s a cop.” James added. 

“What?!” 

All three friends lifted their heads over the divider to look toward the pool tables where the young woman stood with her arms crossed over her chest, looking none too impressed, while a shiny golden shield flashed at her hip. Just as Alex hissed a string of curse words—the woman’s eyes lifted over Winn’s shoulder to catch the three friends in the act of spying. 

“Shit!” Alex ducked back down along with Lucy and James. 

“How did neither of you two knuckleheads notice her girlfriend?!” Lucy hissed. 

“What? Girlfriend?” Alex and James both demanded in whispers. 

They were all three still contorted, trying to stay below the woman’s line of sight, without falling out of their booth. 

“Yes—the other pool player, the busty blond? They’ve been back there all night—they’ve literally made out after every game.” Lucy hissed. 

“Oh, shit.” Alex stammered.

All three friends stiffened when the table jostled a little.

Winn slumped into his seat, looking both crestfallen and murderous. 

Silence reigned for a moment. 

Alex licked her lips and started to say something, but Winn let out a strangled bark and pointed an accusing finger at her, shutting her up. 

“ _You_ —you did this!” 

“Winn.” Lucy soothed, apologetic on her red-headed friend’s behalf. 

“It’s alright, mistakes happen.” An unfamiliar voice broke through and Alex almost jumped out of her skin when she looked up to see the woman from the pool table standing right at their booth—still toting her pool stick like it was some kind of weapon. 

Alex was slightly inebriated, but event through the fog of confused curses and angry self-reproaches clouding up her thoughts, Alex was able to note a few things about the newcomer for survival purposes. One, her badge boasted that she was a Highway Patrolwoman. Two, her gun was properly stored and in the safety position. Three, her belt had little brass studs on it. Four, she smelled like honeycomb under all of the greasy, burnt smells from the bar. And five—her dimples really stood out when she smiled—but, _God_ so did her eyes. 

“I just wanted to introduce myself, make sure Winn here got back to his friends alright—I’m Maggie Sawyer.” The cop said with a bright smile. 

The group of friends offered mostly incomprehensible gibberish and stammerings in return, but Maggie Sawyer continued to grin mischievously at them as if she knew exactly what she was doing. Her black eyes glittered like the deepest, most beautiful midnight.

“Well, my friend, Sara, and I are playing pool over there and…Winn helped us finish the last game rather suddenly when he lost the cue ball, but if any of you would like to join us later—we’ll be back there looking for it for awhile so…” 

“Sorry.” Winn whimpered, staring down at the tabletop.

“Yeah, okay. Yeah, thanks—Maggie.” James tried to be courteous. 

“Right, yes. Enjoy your game.” Lucy blurted when she felt James’s kick under the table. 

“We’ll try.” Maggie chuckled. 

“Pool’s great.” Alex had no idea where that came from, but she immediately turned red when the cop fixed her with a bemused stare. 

“Is it?” Maggie asked, leaning on her pool stick. “You play?” 

Alex started laughing nervously—something Alex Danvers never did. 

Alex didn’t laugh when she was nervous. 

She was a tactical commander well trained in weaponry and interrogation techniques. She was an aunt to four incredibly active and destructive nephews. When she got nervous, she had a tendency to clam up, internalize her insecurity and break through it with her fists. She did not _laugh nervously_. Laughing nervously was a sign of weakness. It served no purpose. And Alex was nothing if not resourceful. She did not bandy words or waste her time with useless things—like _laughing nervously_. 

Alex was rapidly losing control of the situation and she blamed the damn alcohol and that stupid rich Lord lady who had put her in a perpetual bad mood. 

“You know what else is great? Beer. Who wants some? I’m just gonna go—grab some.” Alex stammered as she tried to slide out of the booth without getting any closer to the cop who seemed to be intentionally blocking her escape route.

Alex didn’t hear if the others responded in any way—she made a beeline directly for the bar, her blood pounding with heat in her ears. 

“Mike—get me something strong.” Alex gasped desperately as she gripped the bar to steady herself. She didn’t dare look back to see if she had accidentally toppled someone or something—she seemed to have gotten tunnel vision and honed in on the one opening at the bar, needing to get there and just disappear. 

“You got it!” Mike called as he shot her with his finger guns and then ducked down to the crates under the bar where they kept old Man Grayson’s moonshine.

Alex let out the breath she’d been holding and closed her eyes for a moment to center herself. Around her, the bar was alive and thriving, but the chatter seemed subdued as the jukebox continued to play dreary Dean Martin songs. 

“Here you go, Alex—enjoy.” Mike slapped down a shot glass in front of Alex and then sauntered over to another regular. 

Alex snatched up the alcohol and tipped it back quickly, needing to burn away that helpless feeling that had caused her to say such ridiculous things in the presence of a complete stranger. 

_"…and now, unfortunately I have to share with you some truly upsetting news. It would seem I have been strong-armed by the studio into partnering with those incompetent buffoons at KRAB, so our usual segment 'Superman's latest goofs' will have to be pushed to 6. Believe me, I'm as cut up about it as the rest of you, but apparently our frenemies in Elk Snout need our help spreading the word about something pretty significant, and I'm Cat Grant. It's my job to keep Midvale informed, so here we go...Take a good look at this picture."_

Alex casually glanced up as she was turning to leave and she almost lost the alcohol she’d just consumed when her stomach dropped down to the floor. 

_"This unfortunate woman was found, unconscious and half-drowned in near Elk Snout a few nights ago. She is currently being treated in the regional for amnesia. I have been told that her memory loss is complete, but temporary, which is why we need your help identifying her..."_

“Oh my God.” Alex breathed. “Mike!” 

The bartender turned his head in her direction, but Alex lunged forward to grab him by the collar. 

“Whoa, whoa, hey—I can get you some more, Alex, just hold on—”

“Shut up, you idiot, and just turn that up!” Alex hissed, her eyes bulging. 

“Alright, alright, Geeze—cool your jets.” Mike stammered as he dusted down his apron.

Alex stared up at the screen, mesmerized as her lips thinned into a hard line. 

“ _If you know the identity of this woman, you are encouraged to please contact the Elk Snout Hospital--that is, assuming that they actually have working phones."_ Cat Grant, the newsanchor snarked. 

“Alex, hey, are you okay? You kinda disappeared on us—”

Alex felt Winn’s tug on her sleeve but she held up a hand. 

“Shhh!” 

“ _Now, for those of you with slim tolerance for lunacy, I suggest you look away. But for the rest of you, we have been supplied with a copy of the interview KRAB's associates have been airing, as unimaginative as it is. I would suggest you do your best to overlook the obnoxious size of Rosa Bud's spectacles, and try to get from it what you can, even though it's hard to hear anything she says over the loud color of her pants..."_ The screen now framed the hospital where the woman was presumably being held. There was a police officer and a doctor standing together at the entrance with Wilbur Bud's wife Rose. 

“Alex, is everything okay?” Lucy’s voice called. 

“I don’t know, she’s acting weird again.” Winn whispered. 

“If you value your life, you will _shut up_!” Alex shot over her shoulder, glaring at her friends who had pressed up close to her. 

Given Alex’s reputation as a woman of her word, her friends accepted that it was in their best interest to shut up and direct their attention to the screen that had Alex riveted. 

“ _I understand you’ve been looking after her here for several days now, Doctor. Could you tell us—_ ” Rose was saying, but then she was interrupted.

“ _I’ll put up the reward myself. Just please—call with any information you have._ ” The cop said quickly. 

“ _She’s drivin’ us crazy._ ” The doctor added, his eye twitching slightly. 

Alex’s lips twitched into a cold smile. “It’s her.”

“ _Annnd, that's enough of that."_ Cat Grant huffed, appearing once again behind her desk in the CatCo newsroom. 

“Who’s who?” James Olsen asked as he came to join his friends to see what was keeping them so long. 

“I have no idea.” Winn whispered out of the side of his mouth. 

“ _As you can probably gather for yourselves—she’s apparently not the nicest person_.” Cat Grant sighed, rolling her eyes, " _But does that mean she's any less deserving of our help? Hmmm? Does Superman or--or Powergirl only save the 'nice' people from the burning buildings? No!"_

“That!” Alex was practically shouting, she was so excited. "She's talking about her!" 

James, Lucy, and Winn all glanced up at the screen again, looking uneasy as the rather horrible pictures of the mystery woman were shown once more. One was completely out of focus and the other had clearly been taken while the woman was mid-sentence, her eyes half closed and her mouth open. 

“That’s…” Alex frantically gestured toward the television with her hand. “That’s…it’s _her_ , guys! Her!”

“Yes—we all know.” Winn said nervously, holding up his hands to try to calm Alex down. They were getting looks now from the other patrons of the bar. “It’s that woman that Regio picked up making his garbage sweep—I think Cat Grant’s decided to call her Amnesia Annie.”

" _Do I find it strange that the hospital would put up a reward in a blatant attempt to rush what should be a slow, thorough search-no. No I do not. Not in Elk Snout anyway. But here in Midvale, we want to do all that we can for this Poor Amnesia Annie, and see to it that she's reunited with her rightful family..."_

“No you nitwit, it’s _her_! The _bitch_!” Alex insisted.

Winn’s mouth seemed to drop open as his eyes once again flew up to the screen. “Wha—ohhhh! Oh!” 

“Oh.” James echoed, understand dawning. 

“What? Who is it?" Lucy demanded, "Whose the bitch? Are you--talking about that snobby lady who was mean to Kara and pushed Alex off the yacht?” Lucy tried to connect the dots. 

“Yes!” Alex exclaimed a little more gleefully than was probably appropriate. 

“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed as she elbowed her way closer to the bar so she could stand next to Alex and gaze up at the screen. Winn and James also pressed closer, the four of them taking up the entire corner directly under the television set.

“What was her name?” Lucy asked as she reached up to adjust a few curls that had fallen into her eyes. 

“I don’t really remember—it was Lord something.” Alex shrugged, her attention still glued to the screen that was now playing footage from a chase of sorts, a handheld device shook terribly as someone tried to chase down a man in black leaving the hospital. 

“ _It seems that earlier today, the first candidate arrived on the scene to make an identification…_ ” Cat Grant intoned with a dark look, " _But as you can see--he didn't stay long_."

“That’s the husband.” Alex said in all solemnness, her eyes narrowing.

“What? How can you tell?” Lucy demanded, squinting up at the screen. 

“Hey, hey—let’s respect the bar.” Mike suddenly appeared, his cleaning rag at the ready to wipe away the spilled liquor as Winn’s elbows were knocked by Lucy practically climbing up on the bar to see better. 

“Yeah, yeah, beat it, Mike.” Alex growled without looking. 

“I can’t believe it, he’s skippin out on her.” Winn stammered, his eyes popping as he watched the footage replay on a loop of the man in the black trenchcoat slipping into the limo to speed away—he had come alone, and he left alone. 

“Course he is! It’s his shot at freedom!” Alex announced, gesturing once again with her hands. 

“Desertion disgusts me.” Lucy sniffed, glaring up at the man in the trenchcoat. 

“Hey—do you think if we went to that hospital we could get some of Kara’s money back?” James asked, already thinking of ways they could try to turn this dour situation into something good for their friend. 

“What? No, he’s gone. Look, he got in his car and he took his money with him.” Alex said glumly. 

She hated that James had put the idea in her head when it clearly defied logic. 

“But _she_ isn’t!” Winn interrupted, excitedly. His fingertips were still a little tingly from the alcohol, but he gripped the edge of the bar to stay steady. “Do you think we could go talk to her and maybe get her to—”

“What are you talking about, Winn?” Lucy demanded. 

“No, the only one who could have given Kara what she’s owed was that guy.” James shrugged, jutting his chin up at the continued loop of the man limping away from the hospital. “She doesn’t even know who she is—she probably doesn’t even remember Kara or the closet or any of it—if we'd talked to him, maybe he could've sorted it out, but she's lost it all. She can't access any of her funds when she doesn't have an identity. She's got nothing.” James went on, completely oblivious to the pensive look that had taken over Alex’s face. 

“That’s just sad.” Lucy sighed, her hazel eyes softening with compassion for the mystery woman who may have been a snob but who was vulnerable and lost for the moment. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Winn sighed. “I mean—I think she probably deserved it, but sometimes karma can be a real jerk.” 

“Winn!” Alex lashed out with her hand to grab Winn firmly by the collar of his neatly ironed and pressed dress shirt, her eyes bright. 

“Winn, there is a God—and She’s blessed you with _genius_!” 

Winn frowned and carefully removed Alex’s hand before her grip could get any tighter. 

“What are you talking about?”

Alex laughed hysterically and kissed her friend on the forehead before turning to kiss Lucy on the cheek and then practically tackle James. 

“It’s genius!” 

“What’s genius?” Winn asked, looking even more terrified by the show of affection than when Alex had threatened his life.

“Alex, Aweetie—you’re starting to scare me.” Lucy said with a furtive look to James. 

“You’ve always been scared of me.” Alex replied cheekily as she reached into her back pocket to pay for their rounds, her eyes still dancing with mischief.

“Alex—what are you on about?” James asked directly. 

“Right, so— _God_ , it’s all coming together now! Ahh! First—first I’ve gotta go talk to my nephews, get them prepared—and then I need you to stop by the Salvation Army, pick up a few things.” Alex began, pointing to Lucy. 

“What? What things?” Lucy demanded. 

“Ugh! You know—lady things! Dresses. Heels. A bra or something. Stuff like that.” Alex shrugged.

“Whoa, whoa—back up a second.” Lucy held up her hands, her eyes wide. “What does any of this have to do with—”

“Oh my god.” James exclaimed, his mind finally starting to suspect the general shape of Alex’s plan. 

“Yes! Exactly! _Oh my god_ —Genius!” Alex shouted, grinning like a child at Christmas. 

“What?!” Lucy snapped, glancing swiftly between her boyfriend and best friend.

“No, no—not genius, Alex. This is—this is _illegal_.” James shot back. 

“Slow down—wait, so are you wanting to—the dresses are for dragon lady?” Winn was still trying to catch up. 

“What?! Oh my God, Alex, no! That’s—that’s insane!” Lucy gasped.

“Maybe.” Alex grinned as she slipped her wallet back into her pocket and started zipping up her jacket. 

“Alex—it’s _crazy_!” Lucy reiterated. “You can’t just—just take advantage of that woman’s amnesia, even if she was incredibly rude and horrible and—”

Alex shrugged and looped her thumbs through her belt loops, looking once again calm and in control. 

“It’s for Kara.” 

Winn groaned and dropped his head down on the bar. “Why do you _always_ do that?”

“Now that—that isn’t a valid justification—Alex, it’s still illegal!” James stammered, one of the few times he had gotten flustered during this entire interlude. 

“Now, hold on, just—just wait a damn second here.” Lucy demanded the attention of her friends, once again forced to be the voice of reason. “Now I _like_ Kara. And I appreciate all she’s done for—for her country and for her family and for her friends, and I admit—if anyone deserves a break, it’s her, after all she’s been through and I want to be there for her, we all do, but that does _not_ mean that we can just—”

“So you’ll help me?” Alex asked with the same cool tone that she’d used before. 

“Oh what the hell—yes.” Lucy relented. 

James blinked several times, clearly surprised that his girlfriend had given in so quickly. 

“You know I’m in.” Winn agreed. “Even if we’re probably going to end up in jail.”

Alex snorted, but didn’t comment. 

She slid her serious brown eyes to James, waiting. 

The loyalty in his large heart won out and James rolled his neck from side to side, “I still say it’s crazy—but okay. If we’re going to pull this off, we’ll have to do it together.” 


	19. What Can You Do?  When Alex Danvers is Coming For You...

Alex was a very adept tactical commander.

She had doled out missions and duties to each of her friends right there at the corner of the bar and the very next morning, she and Winn were on the road for Elk Snout. 

She had brought the tech because she needed him to do some quick background—really just to get her a name that she could curse gleefully every day that passed after she sprung the dragon bitch from the psych ward.

It was a bit of a drive from Midvale to Elk Snout, but Alex had what one would call a heavy foot, so she made excellent time. 

The sun was still golden and lingering in the eastern horizon as they drove.

“Okay, so—please tell me that after those two bottles of water and the coffee, you’re starting to see things clearer.” Winn whispered as Alex zoomed past the sign announcing that they were crossing over city limits. 

“I always see things clearly.” Alex snapped as she adjusted her grip on the wheel. 

She had a very clear idea of how this would go; 

First, she would walk into the hospital. The doctors would swarm her with questions. And she would give them a sob story. 

They would be more than happy to take her to the dragon lady. And then she’d make the identification and sign some stupid paperwork. 

Then she'd wave goodbye to the hospital and take the good for nothing miser back to Midvale where she could work off her debt to her sister. 

“Okay, well—what if they don’t believe us?” Winn asked timidly, the glow from his tablet lighting up his face. 

“It doesn’t matter if they believe us.” Alex chuckled. “Did you see that announcement? They’re practically begging for someone to come and take her away—they’ll hand her over to us, no problem. What we really should be worrying about is what happens once we have her—I packed some sedatives in case she’s hostile.” 

Winn’s eyes widened in shock as he tugged open the glove compartment and saw all of the syringes Alex had stored there, as well as a taser. 

“ _Oh my gosh_ —Alex, what the—” 

“Just being prepared, Winn.” Alex said solemnly as she glanced down at the hand-scribbled map in her lap. “Okay, I think I’m supposed to take a right up on Watermann.” 

“But this—this is _so_ not okay, Alex. We’re not rounding up some hostile alien, we’re—”

“Retrieving my sister’s amnesiac wife. You got that?” Alex demanded as she took the momentary pause provided by a red light to turn to glare intently at her partner in crime. 

“Yes, yep. Absolutely. We’ve gone over this a hundred times, I completely understand the objective and I am happy to adhere to it.” Winn agreed as he rubbed at the back of his neck and avoided Alex’s eyes.

“Good.” Alex said dryly as she slammed down her foot and cleared the intersection.

The hospital was at the top of a hill, looking dreary and bleak and more like a prison than anything else. 

Alex was half-tempted to turn back around and leave Helena Lord there just to suffer—but the desire to exact a more personal kind of revenge was too strong. 

Alex was willing to admit that maybe she did have _a bit_ of a vendetta. 


	20. The Case for Miss X

To say that the doctors and nurses and secretarial staff of the Elk Snout Regional Hospital were surprised to find a woman and a man bursting through their doors claiming that their least favorite patient had a family waiting and willing to take her back—was an understatement. 

They were ecstatic. 

Alex and Winn were rushed down the halls to the Psych Ward, orderlies and nurses and random interns leading the way with a new spring in their step. 

“We were all wondering if a woman like that had anyone willing to claim her.” One of the orderlies admitted while the interns banged on the window of the secretary’s desk, yelling for Janice to put down her lunch and come to the window immediately. 

“Well…she does.” Alex said tightly, her smile more than a little forced. “And we’d like her back—especially my sister. See…they’re married.” 

“Ha! I knew it!” One of the nurses snapped her fingers, nudging her colleague. “The way she shut down Jack’s ‘charm and woo’ routine—no way she was straight.” 

“I mean, well, you really shouldn’t assume, about people. Because even if there are signs it can be hard to tell, especially from a distance and especially if you don’t know them...” Winn stumbled over his words, trying to be articulate while also getting around the sting that still lingered from the snub he’d suffered last night, all because he had enlisted the wrong Danvers sister to be his wingwoman. 

Alex elbowed Winn harshly in the ribs, trying to stretch her false smile even more when the nurses turned their way once more. 

“Haha, you’ll have to forgive my friend here, he’s—he’s just here to help me get my sister-in-law back home safely.” Alex laughed nervously. 

_Damn it._

“Whatever.” One of the nurses shrugged and turned his attention back to the elderly secretary who had appeared at the window. 

“They’re really here for Miss X?” Janice asked, surprise dripping from her voice as she squinted over half-moon spectacles at the young man and woman standing awkwardly in the hallway. 

“Yup—they’re from Midvale. Apparently, our little Miss X is from _Midvale_!” One of the orderlies exclaimed excitedly.

“That’s right, Janice! She’ll be going far— _far_ away from here!” The other added as he tried to control his grin. 

“Alright.” Janice sighed as she reached down below the counter to retrieve a small box and a sheaf of papers. “I’ll need you to sign her out then—”

“Of course.” Alex said quickly, stepping forward. “I’m Alex Danvers, Department of Energy—non-blood relation to the patient. She’s my sister-in-law.” 

“Well that’s very—that’s more information than I need.” Janice said as she arthritically passed the clipboard under the window. “Just sign the form.” 

“Right.” Alex smiled nervously and then bent over the clipboard, keeping her eyes down. 

“Ahhh, yes.” Janice coughed, as she removed the only item in the small box and held it up, her eyes finding Winn. “And here are some effects I think you might recognize, young man.” 

“What?!” Winn squeaked, his face reddening as he stared at the thong Janice held suspended on the end of her black ink pen. 

“Aren’t you—” Janice’s white eyebrows furrowed together. 

“No, no, Janice—he’s just—well, he’s just here.” The orderly jumped in. “And Alex here, is coming to get Miss X to take back to her wife.” 

“Her _wife_?!” Janice repeated, clearly scandalized. 

She dropped her pen.

“Yep, that’s right!” Alex said quickly. 

She slipped her hand through the small opening beneath the glass to snatch up the thong before Janice could say anything else. 

“And gosh—wow, Kara’ll be glad to see these again.” Alex exclaimed, though her face was burning. The nurses were all grinning and nodding, even the interns were giving her knowing looks. 

“Yeah, those are—nice panties.” Winn gulped, feeling more and more strongly by the minute that he should have waited in the car. 

“There were some initials on them. She didn’t know what they meant.” One of the orderlies stepped forward to show Alex. 

“ _HL_?” 

“Oh, well—yes, those aren’t her initials though, obviously—it’s the brand monogram.” Alex lied through her teeth. 

The orderly’s eyebrows shot together. 

“And what brand would that be?” 

“Hella Lingerie.” Winn said before Alex could think of anything.

Everyone in the hallway turned to look at him and Winn did his best not to cower. 

“They’re—they’re based in S-Sweden.” Winn croaked. 

“Right.” One of the nurses said lowly. 

“Oh—almost forgot.” Another nurse jumped a little and then walked over to Alex, reaching into her lab pockets to produce some pictures. “We have some photos, if you—”

“Yep. That’s her.” Alex said as she pretended to look over the photos as if seeing them for the first time. She knew they were copies of the ones she’d seen on the news. “That’s—that’s the only other person in the world who loves Kara as much as me.” 

Several of the nurses ‘awwed’ over such a statement. 

“Yep—Kara’s dutiful wife. The little cookie cutter.” Winn added. 

Two of the male interns snickered, but Winn received several glares from the female nurses who clearly did not appreciate the misogynistic attitude, even if it was in reference to someone low on their favorite person list. 

“Right so—can we see her?” Alex asked to cut the tension. 

“Oh, yes, of course!” One of the orderlies called. 

He turned and ran over to push a button that unlocked the heavy looking door leading into the Psych Ward. 

Alex caught Winn’s eye and then stepped over the threshold. 

The orderly was already hailing the doctors across the room. “Doc! We got a winner!” 

Alex’s eyes were scanning the room, looking for a flash of verdant green or some other sign that the embodiment of pure evil was lurking around somewhere, just waiting to fall into her trap. 

Alex felt a nudge on her arm and looked up just as the doctor appeared, leading a dazed looking Helena Lord. 

“Lena!” Alex shouted--because under no circumstances could she possibly shout ‘Helena’ with any enthusiasm--and forced herself to dart forward, to open her arms and grin even though she was cursing on the inside.

She put on her very best smile and went in for a hug with the woman who was from this moment forward to be her sister-in-law whom she could torture at will. 

“Stop!” Miss X demanded. 

Alex froze. 

Miss X’s green eyes narrowed and she lifted them to the doctors standing watch like vultures. 

“I don’t recognize this woman.” Miss X announced clearly and concisely. 

“Your sister-in-law’s had an almost total loss of memory, Miss Danvers.” Dr. Rudy Jones told her with a degree of seriousness. 

“Yeah, yeah—I know.” Alex said, trying to morph her face into a concerned expression. “They said something about that on the walk over—how long will that last?”

“Sister?” Miss X snorted, her eyebrows furrowing. “Sister-in-law?”

“Well yeah, Lena. It’s me. Alex. Don’t you remember me? Or Kara? I’m Kara’s sister.” Alex said, walking slowly toward the woman in the hospital gown. 

All around the room, there were patients engaged in various activities. Some were drawing pictures. Others working at puzzles. 

There was one man eating checkers off of the board. 

But it was quiet. 

Quiet enough that Alex swore she could hear Helena Lord’s heart beating as if she had the super hearing abilities of her little sister. 

“Kara.” Miss X repeated. 

“Yeah, you remember Kara. Your wife? Here, look…” Alex pulled out her phone and started to flip through the pictures she already had queued up. 

“See—blue eyes, disarming smile, a ton of muscle but sweet disposition—she thinks the world of you.” Alex described as she scrolled through several of her favorite pictures of her sister. 

“Wife.” Miss X said again. The word tasted unfamiliar. Not unknown, but definitely not familiar. 

She narrowed her green eyes at the smiling woman in the pictures—proffering an ice cream cone, flexing in a tank top, holding up some kind of rocking chair, making a silly face…

“No.” Miss X said quietly. 

She stepped away from Alex, her eyes finding the doctors.

“No, this isn’t right. That is not my wife and you are not my—and I don’t even know who you are.” Miss X pointed at Winn accusingly. 

Winn blanched but once again Alex came to his rescue. 

“Geeze, I—I really thought seeing Kara’s picture would trigger something. I can’t believe she doesn’t know her own wife.” Alex said sadly.

“Stop saying that!” Miss X shouted. 

She could see the orderlies hiding smirks and smiles—she knew what this was about. She had made her grievances known and now they were punishing her. They were trying to trick her. They were _all_ against her. Every single one of them. 

And there was a reason for it. 

It was because she was a—what was she? The phrase was there, but there was a big chunk missing right at the end. Something important. 

“Lena, please.” Alex called soothingly. 

Miss X frowned and shook her head slowly, trying to change her perception. 

“Lena?” She said quietly. It sounded— _almost_ right, but not right. 

“Lena.” She tried again, louder. 

“Right.” Alex encouraged. 

“No! That is _not_ my name!” Miss X decided. 

“Hey now—it’s okay.” Alex approached again, this time with her hands up. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying this, “I know you’ve had a shock—I know you’re confused. But that’s why we’re here, Lena. To help you. Here. Sit down.”

Alex practically forced Helena Lord to sit down and then patted her knee companionably, trying not to grin too devilishly. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re safe now and Kara’s been so worried. She drove all the way up to Moose Point to look for you, but now we’ve found you and we can all go home.” Alex tried to sound convincing. 

“Kara?” Miss X parroted. Everything was fuzzy— _everything_. Those pictures meant nothing to her. But those eyes—something about those eyes did feel—no. 

_No_ it was a trick. 

“That’s right!” Alex said, nodding eagerly. “Kara. My sister. Kara Danvers. You’ve been married for eight years. I was in your wedding.” 

“Wait!” Miss X snapped. Her mind was spinning. 

She lurched out of her chair, trying to get away from the teasing tone coming from the red-head and the knowing smirks coming from the doctors. 

The name Kara Danvers sounded—natural. Like something that would roll easily from her tongue. A song maybe. 

But wife? What was wife? 

_Who_ was wife? 

Miss X knew pretty girls when she saw them. She appreciated them. Admired them. Fantasized about kissing them. 

But a _wife_? Wife was unattainable. 

And it was because she was a—there it was again. That _almost phrase_ that was the answer to everything that she simply did not know. 

“Lena.” Alex called. 

“No—stay back.” Miss X demanded, narrowing her eyes at the red-head. 

She saw the way those brown eyes had dissected her piece by piece—like a target full of vital striking points. 

Miss X turned to the doctors—detestable creatures, really. But if they could stand between her and the red-head, perhaps they could prove themselves of some worth. 

“I admit that I have forgotten numerous things.” Miss X said plainly, “But I _truly_ , from the depths of _my soul_ do not remember that woman! Don’t you think there’d be some spark of recognition?”

The doctors exchanged glances. 

“We don’t know.” Doctor Jones admitted.

Miss X was really starting to think that she hated that man. 

“Hey, maybe this’ll help.” Winn called, finally ready to bring attention to himself. 

Miss X lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at the man now stepping forward with some kind of device in his hands—a tablet. 

“Here, look, Lena—this was taken just a few weeks ago. See? That’s you and Kara. At the bar you like…”

The doctors were leaning in, but Miss X leaned away, repulsed. 

There was in fact a picture of her and the infamous _wife_ Kara Danvers sitting at some tasteless establishment with beers in their hands—and the infamous _wife_ Kara Danvers was in fact kissing the cheek of the woman in the picture who bore an incredible resemblance to the face Miss X had woken up to these past few days—but she refused to believe that she would ever have visited such a seedy looking place once, let alone on enough occasions so as to call it a ‘favorite’. And her _look alike_ in the picture was clearly fuzzy around the edges, the eyes indistinct—that could be anyone. Though the blonde was unmistakably the infamous _wife_ Kara Danvers, it was easy to tell because her scar above her eyebrow was clearly visible and her face was all scrunched up for the kiss, bringing out the taunt muscles in her neck—

Miss X felt the blood drain from her face.

Her eyes snapped up to the doctors, and she could tell from their expressions that the wool had been pulled over their eyes completely. 

“No! I refuse—I _refuse_ to believe this!” Miss X snapped, stomping away from the photographic evidence with anger boiling in her blood. “That photo is clearly a fake and they—they could just be some strangers off the street! And you’re just going to let them _take me_?” 

“Well, I mean—from the pictures, she really seems to like you.” Dr. Spheer said with a shrug. 

Miss X hated it when he shrugged like that. It was a useless gesture. 

_All men are useless._

“And her sister seems like a nice lady.” Dr. Jones said, clapping a hand on Alex’s shoulder. 

_All Men Are Useless._

“And I mean—look at how happy you look in the photo.” Dr. Jack Spheer said tentatively as he used his fingers to zoom in on Lena’s face—on the wide smile that seemed somehow too square and too masculine for Miss X’s jaw. 

“Plus…” Dr. Spheer said with a half-shrug, half-cringe. “She’s good looking.” 

“Totally.” Winn agreed, glad that the doctors were buying into his quick photoshop. 

“I don’t care if she’s good looking!” Miss X snapped, she pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to breathe evenly. “She’s gorgeous, that’s not the point. The point is that _I do not know her_!”

“Maybe…” Doctor Jones relieved Winn of his tablet and took a few steps closer to Miss X, holding up the tablet as his lips twitched. 

“Maybe if you…looked again?” 

“ _For God’s sake_!” Miss X stomped her foot and turned away. Her eyes caught the movement of Alex Danvers reaching up to brush some hair from her eyes and she turned immediately to her, deciding to ignore the men in the room until they could prove themselves worthy of her consideration. 

“What’s my full name?” Miss X demanded. 

Alex almost choked. 

“Beg pardon?”

“My name. What is it?” Miss X insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Mrs. Lena Danvers.” Alex said, though she knew it sounded awkward as she spoke it for the first time.

“What’s my maiden name?” Mrs. X demanded, narrowing her green eyes. 

“Lena…Goolihy.” Alex stammered. She heard Winn snort, but didn’t dare look in his direction. 

“Lena Goolihy?” Miss X repeated, dumbstruck. She had never heard anything so absurd in her life. 

“Where in _God’s name_ did I grow up? Dogpatch?” Miss X was incredulous. 

“No, no, not there! Over in Goober. Idaho.” Alex replied, trying not to laugh.

“But it’s a nuclear waste dump now…” Winn volunteered. 

Miss X took a moment to level her glare at the man with the tablet before squaring herself before Alex once again. 

“And where, pray tell, did I meet this…this Kara person?” Miss X asked, waving her hand flippantly to show just how little she thought of this _completely fake and infamous wife_ they had invented to trick her.

“Hank’s Donut World. Seattle? Kara was visiting me and we went out for donuts late one night because that place is open until three or so every morning and you hung out there all the time when you were in the Navy, and you just ran into each other…” Alex invented on the spot.

“I…I was in the _armed forces_?” Miss X repeated, her stomach twisting. 

She could think of nothing more distressing--nothing on Earth she could possibly be less suited for.

“Oh yeah. You used to send Kara postcards every time you made port—you sent this one from Okinawa, and the picture on the front was…”

“Stop.” Miss X held up a hand, desperation taking hold in her stomach. “The _Navy_?”

“Oh, come on, Lena. You gotta know—you were in _the Navy_!” Alex reiterated with as much pomp and enthusiasm as she could muster. She was flying by the seat of her pants, but the look of sheer horror on the dragon lady’s face made it all worth it.

“No.” Miss X shook her head, denial was her only defense now. “No, I _don’t_ know. I _don’t know_ any of this. I don’t know where Goober, Idaho is and I’ll admit I might like donuts if I ever try them, but I don’t know my wife and I don’t know _you_! I need some proof.”

“No!” Miss X scolded when she saw the strange non-doctor man in the room lift up his tablet again as if he had had the brilliant idea to shove more picture under her nose. “I mean I need _real_ proof. A birth certificate. A driver’s license—dog tags. Something! _Anything_ but that stupid photo!”

“Stop staring at me!” Miss X redirected her helpless rage to the rest of the room—all of the other patients had gone still and were looking right at her. Even crazy Larry who liked to chew on game pieces. 

“Eat your checkers!” Miss X snapped.

She knew it was underhanded and probably crass to speak so aggressively toward the mentally impaired and unstable, but she was feeling a little unstable herself and she just wanted to go back to the peace and quiet of her cell.

The doctors motioned Alex over subtly and spoke in hushed tones. 

Winn inched closer to listen. 

“Look, if it were up to us, we’d be glad to give her to you, but…unfortunately she’s right. I’m gonna need some verification.” Dr. Jones admitted, begrudgingly.

“Oh—right. I understand.” Alex said, blinking several times. She caught Winn’s eye, desperation clear in her expression. 

“Oh, right, yeah—I, I think I know what they mean, Alex. I understand.” Winn said, smiling and looking down as he fisted his hands into his hips and grinned as if he had a secret. 

Alex’s brown eyes were wide, confusion making her a little breathless—if Winn ruined this for her, she _swore to God_ she would never speak to him again. 

“I ahh, I think I know what they want—Alex, come here, hold on fellas, just give us a moment…” Winn said, still grinning as he slipped an arm around Alex’s shoulders and tugged her less than a foot away so they could whisper not-so-quietly. 

“What are you doing?” Alex hissed. 

“Come on, Alex, it’s simple—you gotta tell ‘em.” Winn whispered loudly back, giving Alex as many facial cues as he possibly could. 

“Tell them what?” Alex demanded. 

She was ready to strangle her partner in crime. 

“You know.” Winn said plainly, widening his eyes aggressively toward Alex. “All they need is a little…verification. Some proof that we know Lena inside and out—up and down.”

Alex shook her head slightly, still at a complete loss as to _what the Hell_ Winn was trying to pull. She had thought he would get on his little tablet and just fabricate something for them, but clearly he had something else in mind. 

“I know you said Kara doesn’t like other people to know—even if we all know because of those—wild pool parties we’ve had, but I’m sure she’d understand—I mean, this is kind of important.” Winn said pointedly. 

There was a beat of silence.

Then Alex’s eyes widened and her lips curled into an inscrutable expression. 

Alex cleared her throat and went back slowly to Dr. Jones and Dr. Spheer. 

“Right—I understand now too. You see—my sister’s very protective, and Lena’s always found it a bit embarrassing, but—she does have a small, strawberry like birthmark.” Alex told them, confidentially, but loud enough for everyone else to hear as well. 

“It’s ahhh, kind of high up on her…left cheek. And it’s…unique.” Alex finished. 

Somehow she managed not to giggle or gag—for some reason she had the urge to do both. 

Winn held his breath. 

Both doctors turned expectantly toward Miss X who now stood ramrod straight, her face drained of all color. 

Alex crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow in challenge, smirking when she saw Helena Lord’s jaw clench. She thanked God silently for her sister’s keen memory and inability to leave out even the smallest details when telling a story—Kara had remembered quite vividly the vision of Helena Lord sweeping into the master bedroom in her itty bitty green bikini, and the way she had sauntered about the room before she had gone to grab a tampon from the bedside table. 

Kara had blushed when she’d told Alex about it. But that was just Kara. She’d always blushed around pretty girls—even the one or two that she’d dated in college. 

Alex narrowed her eyes and waited, knowing that she had won. 

Miss X clenched fists and turned to march over to an out of the way corner, sheltered slightly by one of the empty recliners. 

_She’s bluffing. There is no birthmark._

_I’d know if I had a birthmark._

_They’re all lying._

Miss X glared one final time over the top of the recliner at the semi-circle of people waiting with various degrees of smugness and hope on their faces. Miss X gritted her teeth and grabbed a fistful of her hospital gown. 

_It’s a lie. There is no birthmark._

_I_ _don’t have a wife._

_I’m not from Goober, Idaho._

_I was never in the Navy._

Miss X told herself these things over and over again as she twisted to stare down at her own ass. 

Taking one final, fortifying breath, Miss X yanked her hospital gown up—and screamed. 


	21. Goodbye, and Good Riddance

Doctors and nurses and administrators from the Elk Snout Regional Hospital literally lined the hallways to send off Mrs. Lena Danvers with cheers and waves and pleas to _never_ come back. 

Mrs. Lena Danvers herself was still a little shell-shocked, and required a wheelchair to assist her in vacating the premises.

Alex Danvers, the sister-in-law, was more than happy to push Mrs. Lena Danvers, while her impish friend Winn Schott ran ahead to pull the SUV around. 

_It was right there. Just like she said. Shaped just like a strawberry—how did I forget about my birthmark?_ Lena’s thoughts were deafening. She hardly noticed when the cameras began flashing and the questions started raining down again as she left the hospital behind. 

“Stand back—stay back please—crazy lady coming through.” Alex called, clearing a path with her elbow and aggressive demeanor. 

Winn pulled the black SUV around quickly and jumped out to run around and open the passenger side door for the dragon lady—for Mrs. Lena Danvers. 

Lena didn’t move when Alex moved to strap her in. 

Lena didn’t move when Alex slammed the door. 

Lena didn’t move when a hand slapped up against the window near her head as a nosy reporter tried to get another picture. 

“Ugh, leeches.” Alex muttered as she started the engine. 

Winn slipped into the back seat and buckled in, balancing his tablet precariously on his knees. 

"Everybody ready?” Alex asked, checking her rearview and side mirrors before pulling away. She was pretty sure the doctors in the hospital were popping open some champagne or some other such celebratory beverages, but for herself and Winn…and Kara, the party would come later. 

Now, it was time to dig down deep and keep up the façade. One small slip and it could all be over—the dragon lady seemed keenly perceptive. 

Winn didn’t breathe until they had driven in silence through the city of Elk Snout and were once again passing the sign indicating the city limits, this time as they left the place. 

“Wow. That was—wow.” Winn huffed, slumping back against the leather. 

“Yeah, I know—you were brilliant, by the way.” Alex said, shooting Winn a smile through the rearview mirror. 

“Where are you taking me?” Mrs. Lena Danvers asked in an exhausted voice. 

“Why, home of course!” Alex proclaimed gleefully. 

"Would you please not shout? Your voice has a particular grating quality which I find irksome.” Lena groaned, flopping her head over so she could stare out the window—at the fields and fields of orchard trees that she absolutely did not recognize. 

“Sure.” Alex growled, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I’d hate to make you uncomfortable—sis.” 

"Oh for heaven’s sake.” Lena sat up and turned, glaring at the red-head who was currently her personal ferrywoman to hell. Lena turned her head further, glaring at the man in the back seat. 

“You there. Boy.” 

Winn was startled and dropped his tablet—he had been playing a game, but the music that sounded weakly from the tablet as it fell to his feet indicated that he had died. 

“Umm, yes—yes?” Winn asked, his eyes widening as he saw the woman—really _saw_ her, for the first time. She was fiercesome and gorgeous—he had the strangest feeling that his best friend Kara was doomed. 

“What was I doing?” Lena demanded.

“I’m sorry?” Winn was confused.

Lena rolled her eyes and turned further so she could glare at him. 

“What was I doing that night? Out in the ocean?” Lena tried to clarify.

“Oh, ummmm…” Winn’s eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s something you like to do.” Alex said, side-eyeing the woman beside her. “You know, divin’ for oysters at night.” 

“Oysters.” Lena repeated, her eyes growing wide and then narrowing suspiciously. “In the cold ocean— _at night_?”

“Yup.” Alex said without changing her expression. 

Lena huffed and sat back in her chair. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Well you know, you have some pretty quirky talents. And digging for oysters is one of them. Sometimes you get pretty far out from the shore, and Kara’s warned you a million times, you know, that undertow…” Alex rambled, enjoying this game.

“Now that’s another thing.” Lena suddenly exclaimed, sitting up with an indignant pout on her lips and a crinkle forming between her eyebrows. 

“This— _wife_. My Kara person—I’m telling you I don’t know her.” Lena insisted.

“Oh, trust me, sweetheart—you know her.” Alex said, glaring subtly through the corner of her eye.

Lena sighed and snapped her fingers toward the man. 

“May I—may I see our picture again?” She asked. 

“Oh, what? No—well, ahh, you see…” As Winn fumbled, his tablet tumbled down to his feet once more. “There, see—it’s broken.” 

Lena let out an exasperated sigh and aggressively slumped back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned again to stare menacingly out the window. 

Alex’s eyes slid slowly over to the woman and then to the glove compartment where’d she’d stashed her knock-out drugs. 

“What about you?” Lena suddenly asked, startling Alex from her thoughts. 

"What?”

“Don’t you have any pictures of Kara and I together on your phone? You said you’ve been a part of our lives from the beginning, and we’ve been married for eight years, according to you, so don’t you—”

Alex reflexively lashed out and pounded the dashboard, turning on the radio. Blues music immediately filled the vehicle and Lena glared at the red-head. 

“Are you ignoring me?” 

“You’ve had a tough day.” Alex said as she reached out and deliberately turned up the volume. “Why don’t you just lie back and close your eyes? Rest a bit. We’ll be home in a few hours.” 

Lena blew a few errant wisps of hair out of her eyes and slammed her head back against the headrest, anger boiling in her veins with nowhere to go. Lena brought her knees up to her chest and tried to think of happy things—but she didn’t know what made her happy anymore. 

The realization made her want to cry.

“Hey—feet off the dash. Come on, Lena—you know better.” Alex scolded, swatting at Lena’s feet. 

“ _How_ is this my life?” Lena muttered, glaring at her reflection in the side mirror. 

Alex ignored her and turned up the radio. 


	22. Welcome Home, Mrs. Lena Danvers

Lena had the impulse to jump from the moving vehicle on several occasions on their precarious journey to a place called Midvale. 

Midvale, she quickly learned, was synonymous with _hell_. 

She did not see a single Starbucks as they drove along the quaint little streets, cobbled along the waterfront, and then poorly paved the further in one drove. She saw tacky little antique shops and several fast food joints. At least four funeral homes and just as many churches. Several of the buildings looked old— _exposed brick_ old with creeping moss and old graffiti on the sides. There were boarded up post offices and Used Car dealerships. The theater looked closed, advertising _50 Shades f G ey,_ or some such film. 

But she really wanted to bail when Alex Danvers turned off of the paved road onto a gravel— _path_. It was more path than road. 

But Lena really, _really_ , truly and immediately wanted to bail when that gravel road turned into a dirt road, and the cloud of dust that rose up all around them seemed some kind of metaphor for the hellish, unshakable storm that had taken over Lena’s life. 

When Alex Danvers pulled up in front of a run down, ramshackle hovel surrounded by the skeletons of what Lena could only assume had once been trees—

She wanted to lie down and die. 

“Home sweet home.” Alex said a little cruelly. 

Lena’s green eyes were wide and her fingers were white as she clutched the seat belt tightly. 

“I feel faint.” She whispered. 

“Hey, I know it looks kinda bad on the outside, but it’s really not.” Winn tried to sound encouraging as he pulled the door open for her. 

Lena slowly unbuckled her seatbelt as she eyed the unsound structure that was to be her home up and down—it seemed to lilt to one side. There were broken windows and—two giant beasts were lumbering down the porch steps toward the vehicle. 

Lena reached out and grabbed the door, pulling it shut tightly just as the first of the giant hounds let out a howl and the other jumped up on the immovable Alex Danvers. 

“Oh, hey there guys—hey Pluto! Hey Krypto!” Alex laughed, lifting her chin to keep her face out of range of the roving tongue. 

Winn was running around the vehicle, trying to keep out of the other beast’s jaws. 

Lena watched the commotion with wide eyes. She used one finger to lock her door. 

“Hey, there you are! We’ve been waiting—is that her?” A figure appeared on the porch, a screen door slamming. 

Lena felt her breath catch, but when the shadow stepped out into the light, it was revealed to be a complete stranger—well, a complete stranger who was not the _infamous wife Kara Danvers_ that Lena could at least recognize on sight thanks to the unhelpful hoodlums who had ferried her here. 

A woman was coming down the steps, one hand up to shade her eyes from the sun and a tall, bald man followed her. The woman was trim but sharp, her movements precise. Her curly black hair was pulled back, giving Lena an unobstructed view of her almond shaped hazel eyes and her freckles.

The man behind her moved more fluidly, almost as if by accident. He wore soft colors, that made his brown eyes not only appear warm, but _feel_ warm—like melted chocolate. He seemed to hesitate over the steps, and his eyes slid lazily over to the SUV. 

Lena ducked down, hoping that she could remain invisible just a moment or two longer. 

Lucy and James approached Alex, both sending curious glances toward the SUV where they knew the dragon lady was hiding. 

“Right, did you get the supplies?” Alex asked in a low voice as she shoved Krypto away and swiped at the slobber on her neck. 

“Affirmative.” Lucy answered, a smile quirking her lips. “We had a great time with the boys.” 

James hummed his agreement and swayed slightly as Lucy leaned back against him. 

"Interference?” Alex asked, sounding unimpressed.

“Yes, well—about that…” James started, haltingly. 

“James.” Alex barked. “You had one job.”

“I know, I know.” James sighed. “But we were out with the boys a little longer than we expected, and when I texted Kara, she wasn’t responding—J’onn said he’d sent her out on some kind of errand—and well, I don’t know when she’ll be back.” 

“So—you didn’t tell her _anything_?” Winn asked, his eyes widening. 

“James—how the hell are we supposed to pass Lena off as Kara’s wife, if _Kara_ isn’t willing to play along? All of this rides on Kara—”

“Lena?” Lucy interrupted, her eyebrows inching together. “We’re calling her Lena?” 

“Her idea.” Winn was quick to point his finger in Alex’s direction. 

Alex rolled her eyes and tried not show how much she was panicking in the moment—all of this was meant to be for Kara’s benefit, and yet—Kara could completely ruin everything if she walked in and started calling Lena ‘Mrs. Lord’ or something. 

"Alright look—James, you and I will get her acquainted with the boys and the house. Winn, you and Lucy head back to the DEO and get Kara on board or so help me I will—”

“Hey, I know, I know, I know…” Winn stammered, lifting his hands in surrender when Alex crooked a finger in his direction. “You know seven ways to kill me with your little finger, yeah, I’m aware.”

“Good.” Alex quipped. “Move.” 

Winn squealed and scrambled to get out of Alex’s way as she surged through the group of friends toward the SUV. 

She could see the crown of Lena’s head as the woman tried to compact herself into the small space beneath the glove compartment, out of sight. 

Alex cursed herself when she realized she’d left the keys in the cupholder between the front seats—a habit with these company vehicles that she was always leaving for others or parking in the DEO garage. Alex rapped her knuckles lightly against the glass of Lena’s window, trying not to appear too menacing. 

“Go away.” Lena grumbled. 

“Lena—come on. It’s time to come out now.” Alex called. 

Lena shook her head. 

Alex took a deep breath. She whistled and sent the dogs away, tired of watching the larger one mark the tires of the SUV over and over again like an ingrate. 

“Will you at least roll down the window so we can talk? I know you’re scared, but these people are your friends—Kara’s friends too. They just wanted to say hello.” Alex said with a forced smile as she jerked her head to get James and Lucy and Winn to come closer. 

Lena could feel more shadows blocking the sun as more people surrounded the car. Normally, she would appreciate the barriers between herself and UV rays, but at the moment—it did nothing to help ease her anxiety. 

“Lena.” Alex sounded stern. 

“Lena—I heard that you have amnesia, so I know you don’t know me.” James began, clearing his throat because he didn’t like lying. “But I’m James—I knew Kara—well, both of you pretty well in Metropolis and helped you guys move here—”

“What?” Lena lifted her head at that; her green eyes were narrowed and a little glassy because she was very close to tears. “We—We _moved_ here? _Deliberately_?!” 

“Yes, you used to live in Metropolis, so the place might seem strange at first, and there are still a lot of boxes everywhere…” Lucy tried to pitch in. 

Lena’s eyes had gone dull as she turned her head to stare through the windshield to the dilapidated hovel. 

“We moved here.” She repeated forlornly. “From the city. _Why_?” 

“Lena, I want to answer your questions.” Alex said through gritted teeth, “But I’m going to need you to get out of the car to do that.” 

Lena sighed and contemplated the pros and cons of acquiescing to her supposed sister-in-law’s request. 

“I’m _not_ going in there.” Lena established as she started to reach for the handle. 

“Fine.” Alex growled. 

Lena sighed and finally unlocked the door and pushed it open. 

Winn and Lucy both stepped back to give her room to step out into the sunshine. 

For a moment, the small ring of conspirators remained perfectly still, as if afraid that sudden movements might frighten away their prey. 

“See—in the sun it kinda looks like a palace.” Winn said with a grin. 

“No…no, this is wrong.” Lena stammered, taking a step back. 

Unfortunately, she stepped back into Lucy, who caught her and held still. 

“I’m sure it feels that way at first, but give it a chance—it’ll grow on you.” Lucy promised. 

“And who are you?” Lena demanded, her senses on overload.

“Oh, I’m Lucy. Lucy Lane.” 

“Lane.” Lena repeated. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she didn’t even try grasping for it. At this point, it seemed useless. 

“Yep, Captain in the Armed Forces.” Lucy smiled and saluted. 

Lena backed away, terror seizing her once more. 

“Armed Forces.” Lena stammered.

"Yep, and she outranks you, Petty Officer.” Alex said with a smirk.

“That’s—right. Lena you were in the Navy.” Lucy said slowly and clunkily as her eye twitched. Sometimes, Alex had the _worst_ ideas.

“What about Kara? Was Kara—a marine or something?” Lena demanded, feeling completely disoriented and in need of a cold shower and perhaps some strong medication. 

“No, no—Kara’s a—”

“Carpenter.” Alex interrupted. “My goodness, Lena, you look like you need to sit down—why don’t we go inside? Say goodbye to Winn and Lucy.” 

Alex had taken Lena by both shoulders and began to steer her across the dusty yard toward the house. 

Lena lifted a hand half-heartedly. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll see you soon.” Lucy waved back, still looking uneasy. 

Winn also looked anxious as he circled around the vehicle and hopped into the driver’s seat. His heart was pounding rapidly—breaking the law was very stressful. 

“Watch your step—these stairs are a little uneven.” Alex called joyfully as she half pushed, half lifted Lena up the stairs.

Behind them, the SUV pulled away, churning up dirt and dust as Winn swung around the dead walnut tree and back out onto the dirt road. 

“It really is nice on the inside.” James offered Lena gently as he followed Alex up the steps after watching the SUV safely merge onto the paved road down the lane.

Lena had gone rigid and she froze just before the door, her eyes wide. 

“Something moved in there.” Lena whispered, her voice tight. 

Her eyes were darting from one front facing window to another 

“What—no, that’s—there’s nothing dangerous in here, come on.” Alex called jovially as she pulled the screen door open and then kicked in the wooden door. 

Lena flinched, hugging herself tightly. 

“Come on.” James urged, sweeping an arm to show her the way.

Lena swallowed and took the first few hesitant steps into the house.


	23. Lena Hates Surprises

James. Whoever he was. Had _lied_. 

It was definitely _not_ nicer on the inside.

Lena found herself blinking against the gloom—there was dust in the air. Thousands of dustmotes dancing in the dappled afternoon light. Lena’s eyes darted from one unclean surface to another, her nose scrunching at the stench of sweat and old mold—she could hear water dripping somewhere nearby, and she flinched when the screen door slammed behind her like an ominous exclamation. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Alex said as she gazed around as well, her lips quirking.

“And what is that?” Lena challenged. 

Alex caught her eye and grinned. “That it needs a lot of work—and you’re absolutely right! But you can’t expect Rome to be built in a day—you guys have only been here for a few weeks—it’s still a work in progress.” 

“Yeah, a little paint and some sanding—Kara’ll take care of all of the electrical and woodwork, Winn and I got the plumbing, and J’onn even said he’d help clear out some of those dead trees…” James said a little wistfully as he looked around the fixer-upper that he and Alex and Winn had toured several times before they’d finally told Kara they’d found the perfect place for her. 

“Who is John?” Lena demanded, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. There were several cracks in the plaster, revealing the bare bones of the house itself. 

She felt as if she were inside the belly of some monstrous beast. 

“Right, ahh, let me—James, let’s show Lena around. Maybe something’ll come back to you.” Alex said as she gripped Lena’s arm and pulled her toward the kitchen.

“Oh, right.” James called. He patted the bannister of the stairs, his eyes straying to the four little shadows trying to creep closer to the landing. 

Lena pulled up short, her eyebrows inching together as her eyes darted down to the cracked and faded laminate beneath her feet. 

“Did I just…go downhill?” Lena asked.

“Yeah, everything slants down in the house.” James explained, making a swooshing motion with his arm, trying for a smile.

Lena’s lips remained parted in a soundless ‘o’. 

“Right, anyway…” Alex coughed and tugged on Lena’s elbow, doing her best to station herself between Lena and the refrigerator that was covered in hundreds of drawings and mismatched magnets and pictures of the boys that Alex was saving for last—she wanted to savor the moment. 

“Okay, so here’s the dining room and kitchen, kinda meshed together. Over there’s the pantry and study. Bathroom—this is the only one that works.” Alex pointed. 

Lena’s wide eyes blinked as she looked from one messy room to another, disbelief and revulsion still the most poignant of feelings. 

“How could anyone—how do we live like this?” Lena demanded.

Alex caught James’s eye over Lena’s head and smirked. 

James was leaning back against the bannister and subtly nodded to the pair of eyes watching from up above. 

Immediately, the entire house shook with the force of shouts and the clatter of eager feet on the stairs.

“Oh, look, here they come!” Alex feigned surprise. “Guess they couldn’t wait to see you again.”

Lena literally leapt up in fright and staggered back, clutching at Alex as several tiny wild demons tumbled down the stairs, shrieking and spitting and generally terrifying her simply by existing. 

“Miguel tried to kill my turtle!” A small wildling shrieked—it was half naked, it’s round belly sporting an inny belly button. 

“Did not! It just slipped out of my hands.” A taller, broader wildling snarled.

“You should have seen it bounce, Aunt Alex!” Another wildling exclaimed, midnight eyes glinting. 

“Alright guys, take it easy, calm down.” Alex said casually as she pried Lena’s numb fingers from her forearm. 

“But it’s murder!” The little wildling with the turtle shouted—no, it was not the same wildling with the inny belly button, or was it? Lena’s mind couldn’t grasp this—two of the small demon children looked exactly alike—one was wearing a shirt and the other was not. Both had a dusting of silvery hair and dark blue eyes. 

Lena was getting whiplash looking from one to the other.

“Hey guys, look who’s home.” James prompted in the single moment of quiet that had thankfully fallen as the boys continued to justify their motives to their intimidating aunt. 

As a unit, the four heads turned to trap Lena who had been trying to edge her way out of the kitchen, back towards the front hall and the exit. She froze, her heart leaping up into her throat. 

“Hi, mom.” The turtle killer, with slanted, elfish eyes said. 

“Hi, mom.” The one with midnight curls and midnight eyes parroted.

“We missed you, mom.” The bare-chested imp shrieked.

“Really. Lots and lots!” His double echoed with a smile that revealed at least two missing teeth. 

“We’re so glad you’re back!” The oldest boy proclaimed dramatically after receiving a warning glare from his aunt. 

James covered his mouth with one hand, holding his breath. 

Alex had sidled around the room, coming close to Lena again—mostly so she could grab her by the scruff if she tried to bolt through the door. 

“They’re…” Lena’s voice failed her as she peered into the faces of the young boys she had never seen before. She saw no trace of herself in any of their faces—not only was it obvious that they were of various ethnic ancestries that warranted the most beautiful array of earth tones in the skin and the most intriguing eyes that harbored not even the slightest resemblance to Lena’s own pasty complexion and green of the Irish Kells—but Lena felt no tugging of the heartstrings, no warmth in her blood speaking of an unfathomable biological connection between mother and offspring that she was fairly certain she would feel if these miscreants had in fact somehow been borne of her loins. 

Lena turned helplessly to Alex. 

“They’re not mine?” Lena pleaded. 

Alex’s stony expression seemed to harden just a little bit more, and her nostrils flared. 

“Gee, I was sure you’d remember us.” The curly haired child snickered. 

“Lena, that’s not funny.” Alex said seriously. “You and Kara both agreed that you’d treat the boys like your own—you know how it messes with their self-esteem when you talk like that.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Lena stammered toward the boys who were all gazing up at her with smiles and smirks she did not think the situation at all called for. “I’m sure—that Kara loves you very much, but I—Alex, I don’t…”

“Hey, why don’t we slow things down a little.” James intervened, stepping in to offer the clearly panicking woman a brief reprieve. “It’s been a long day, and I know the boys are really excited to see you, but why don’t we—take a moment to collect ourselves.” 

Lena nodded, biting her lip. She was still afraid to look at the boys directly—they gave off mischievous vibes, as if they were about something that Lena couldn’t fathom. 

“You’re right, James—boys, why don’t you sit down in the den for a second while I help your— _mother_ change out of her straight-jacket.” Alex instructed, giving orders was second nature to her. 

“What’s a—a straight-jacket?” One of the identical twins asked, scratching at his head. 

“It’s what the crazies wear.” The oldest boy hissed in his ear, grinning. 

“Our mom’s not crazy!” The little twin shouted, indignant. “You’re crazy!”

“You’re crazy!” The older boy taunted back. 

“Hey, boys…” James intervened, stepping in before things started flying. 

“Take me away.” Lena whispered. 

Alex rolled her eyes and steered Lena to a door hidden back beyond the kitchen and behind the stairs. 

“Oh, please—not there.” Lena whispered faintly. All she could see was the door on twisted hinges, gaping open like a sadistic furnace or some other such machine ready to consume her. 

“Look at that, it’s coming back already!” Alex praised. “This is your bedroom, well, yours and...”

“Kara.” Lena said numbly as her eyes took in the rumpled tank-tops and flannel shirts tossed here and there—half a rocking chair propped against one wall, with screws and nobbins all scattered on the floor. A chest of drawers, many of them pulled open, and boxes strewn in no particular order. There were sunflowers in a vase on the windowsill, a splash of color to the otherwise bland room. Some of the wallpaper had been stripped, but not completely—it was a detestable grey pattern. 

Lena’s nostrils flared at the heavy scent that assailed her senses—and yet nothing was triggered. She did not recognize any of it. 

“Right. So—some of your clothes should be over there, somewhere. I’ll wait out there with the boys.” Alex said, turning to go. 

“Wait!” Lena cried desperately. 

She clung to Alex’s arm, but then felt foolish and let go when Alex raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Where—Where is Kara?” Lena asked quietly. 

Alex’s hard expression was rattled for a moment, shocked by the soft tone coming from the woman who for the first time looked scared and vulnerable to Alex’s eyes. 

Alex sighed and rubbed at the back of her neck. 

“I’m—actually not sure at the moment, but I know she’s on her way. She’ll be home soon.” Alex said. 

Lena bit her lip and nodded. She didn’t protest when Alex left her alone in the room full of intimidating unknowns, gloom, and sunflowers. 


	24. Kara Comes Home

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose as she pulled the bedroom door closed firmly behind her. She could hear her nephews bickering in the living room, and James trying and failing to quiet them down. 

Alex sighed and ran a hand through her short hair. 

_This is exhausting_.

“Alright.” Alex snapped, she clapped her hands to call for quiet as she marched into the den. The two large mastiffs lifted their heads, but then lowered them when Alex didn’t stop to pat their heads. 

“Sit, now.” Alex commanded when she saw that both Miguel and Julien were on their feet, having a staring contest of some sort. 

Miguel flopped back on the couch next to Colm and Alex scooped up the little one before he could protest. 

“Why do I have to sit?!” Julien demanded loudly, flailing his arms and legs in protest of being manhandled. 

“Because, we need to have a serious discussion about the rules of the game here, guys.” Alex said seriously as she maneuvered her nephew so he was sitting in her lap. 

“It’s not our fault.” Colm immediately insisted. “You didn’t tell us what to do so we just—”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Alex held up a hand, fixing each of her nephews with a hard stare for a full minute. “Believability guys—that’s all I’m asking for. You’re supposed to be over the moon that she’s back from the hospital—”

“Yeah, but she has scary eyes.” Julien quipped, tilting his head back almost impossibly far to look up at his Aunt’s chin. 

“Julien—what is this?” Alex demanded, glaring down at the bare belly that was dotted with red smears. 

“Chicken pox.” Walter said seriously. “I’m getting some too.” 

“So we won’t have to go to school tomorrow.” Julien elaborated. 

“You guys are in Preschool—that isn’t even the same as real school.” Colm was indignant. 

“Yeah, you don’t even know how lucky you are.” Miguel challenged. 

Julien stuck out his tongue. 

“Hey, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” James said, slyly grabbing the red marker from the coffee table in case Walter started giving himself chicken pox right then and there. 

“Okay, well, first of all—school is important and you all should try to do your best.” Alex grunted as she licked her thumb and tried to rub away a few of the marker smears on Julien’s stomach. “And second of all—if we want this to work all you have to do is play the game. Just pretend for a little while that she’s your—”

“I don’t want another mom!” Julien shrieked, shoving his aunt’s hands away. 

“She won’t _be_ your mom, Julien.” Alex snapped, fixing her rambunctious young nephew with a look that made him close his mouth before he shouted anything further. “She’ll be like—your servant.”

“A what?” Walter piped up, his shale grey eyes wide.

"Like a slave?" Miguel guessed 

“Okay, well—no, guys, that’s not—” James tried to intervene.

“Exactly. If we play the game right, she’ll cook and clean and basically be your personal little maid while she works off her debt.” Alex explained. 

“Her debt?” Colm’s eyebrows furrowed and he glanced at his older brother. 

“I guess she owes us money?” Miguel shrugged, his brown hair falling into his eyes. 

“Yes, she owes your mom $600.” Alex explained. 

Walter gasped, his mind trying to grasp such a sum. “Six Hundred _Dollars_?!”

“Hmmm—what is that?” Miguel asked, looking pointedly to Colm. 

Colm slid forward to his knees and produced a shiny calculator from his back pocket—one that he had picked out while shopping with James and Lucy. 

“Well, what is minimum wage today Uncle James?” Colm asked as he turned on the calculator. 

“Oh, umm—”

“$7.50.” Alex responded dryly. 

“Okay, so if minimum wage is $7.50 for every hour—then for a whole day, that’s 24 hours—so in one day that would be $180…” Colm murmured as he scribbled something in the margins of the page of one of the magazines on the table. “And then—wait—180 times 4 is too much, that’s 720.” 

“Wait, wait…” Miguel slid down next to his brother, his own eyebrows furrowing. 

“You don’t pay for the whole 24 hours—part of that time is spent sleeping.” Miguel reasoned. 

“And eating.” Walter said, chewing on the end of one of the markers.

“And playing.” Julien pointed out. 

“Okay—okay, what about five hours a day then?” Colm asked, looking up for the approval of his brothers. “If we only count five hours each day—then that would be $37.50. And then for a week—and another week…” 

Colm had his tongue stuck between his teeth as he pounded away at his calculator. 

Julien had slipped down from Alex’s lap to press closer. Walter too. 

The four boys hovered around the little calculating machine with wide eyes and bated breath. 

Alex glanced up at James, amusement and fondness plain in the way her face had relaxed and her lips quirked. 

“So—it would take sixteen days to make the 600 dollars.” Colm finally announced, circling the number as he marked it down on the cover of an old edition of Catco Magazine. 

“That’s a long time.” Walter said sagely, leaning forward with his chin propped up on his arms. 

“Sounds reasonable to me.” Alex said with a shrug. 

“Okay, but she’s not a slave okay—slavery is bad, guys. Working off a debt is different. It’s called _servitude_ , because you owe someone your services…” James began to explain to the four boys at his feet.

“Will she make us dinner when Mom’s working late?” Miguel demanded. 

“Oh, well, I guess…” James shrugged. 

Alex snorted. She highly doubted the dragon lady could cook, but she couldn’t wait to find out. 

“Where is she, anyway?” Alex asked, glancing down at her wrist before she remembered that she had yet to replace the watch that had been ruined. 

“She has been in there awhile.” James said, concern clouding his features. 

“Maybe she’s napping.” Walter suggested with a shrug. 

“Did you get the dresses?” Alex asked, looking over her nephew’s head to James. 

James nodded, but then seemed to consider something. 

“I mean—we did, but you never said what sizes, and Lucy had taken Miguel and Colm over to shop around for school supplies while the twins and I…”

“What?!” Alex glanced down at her four year old nephews. “What did they get?”

Just then several of the boys let out choked giggles and Julien made a face that Alex knew meant he saw something that both intrigued and grossed him out. She turned in her chair and blinked at Lena who was standing awkwardly in the most detestable dress Alex had ever seen. 

Lena was staring down at it and picking at the mauve lace around the sleeves and collar—her expression one of abject horror.

“This garment cannot possibly be a part of my wardrobe.” Lena stated plainly. 

“Well, it’s ahh—” Alex began. 

“Let’s forget for a moment that it’s a _rag_ …” Lena said, shooting Alex a glare, “but it also happens to be six sizes too large.”

“It’s not—it’s not that bad.” Miguel said, his grin hidden behind a hand. 

“Not that bad?” Lena repeated, tugging at the material to show exactly how much of it was hanging off of her, gathered around her neck like a thick scarf. 

“No, really, Mo—Mother. It isn’t terrible.” Colm said with faux sweetness. 

“I think it’s pretty.” Walter inserted indignantly. 

“You look like a clown!” Julien giggled, rolling on the floor. James caught him up and tried to cover his mouth. 

Lena was still trying to understand where her arms were supposed to go in the circus tent that was currently draped over her body. 

“I mean, it looks— _bad_ now, but Lena—I mean, you’ve gotta admit that you’ve lost a lot of weight.” Alex said, tilting her head to one side. 

“Yeah—you used to be like a balloon.” Miguel added, catching on to what his Aunt had in mind. 

“Was I also shorter?” Lena asked, gazing down at her bare legs sticking out from the lacy bottom of the strange garment. 

“Oh, yeah! Lots!” Miguel responded on cue. 

Alex slapped his arm, widening her eyes in warning. “What he means is—you had a bad back, so you walked a little hunched over, you know.” 

Lena didn’t seem to be listening. She was standing in front of one of the mirrors that had been propped up against the stairwell, waiting to be hefted upstairs. 

“I was short _and_ fat?” Lena stared at herself, trying to make sense of this new information. 

“You know what—that one was an old one, why don’t you go back in there and find something else.” Alex suggested hastily. She lurched to her feet and gave her snickering nephews a glare before she guided Lena back towards the bedroom. 

“I think those ones in the sacks must have been clothes you were meaning to throw out—why don’t you check the bureau?” Alex suggested as she practically shoved Lena into the bedroom, cutting off her protests.

Alex slumped against the door and caught James’s eye, letting out an exasperated breath to blow the bangs out of her eyes. 

Suddenly the dogs lifted their heads and thumped their tails against the floor. Alex instinctively turned her head just as one of the boys jumped up to poke his head out one of the broken windows.

“Hey! It’s Mom!” Colm exclaimed. 

The dogs leapt up then, barking as they ran toward the front door. Alex turned her eyes to the window where she could see the black SUV still a few yards away from the house, but she knew Kara wasn’t in the SUV—she’d be flying ahead.

There was a strong gust of wind that kicked up dust and a bit of dirt as Kara zoomed right by the broken window, a blue blur, to disappear for a moment behind one of the run down sheds in the yard, only to re-emerge in her civilian clothes just as the SUV pulled up to the front of the house.

The boys had all perked up and were tripping over each other trying to be the first to the door, but Alex knew it didn’t matter how fast they thought they could be—Kara only flew that recklessly when she was upset—and Alex had a pretty good idea what her little sister was upset about this time. 

Alex only had time to swallow and straighten before the front door slammed open--

And Kara Danvers came storming into the house.

A chorus of happy greetings came from the hall, but Kara’s blue eyes found Alex first. 

“Alex! What _on Earth_ do you think you’re doing—”

The dogs had leapt up and were jumping up at Kara as she tried to make her way around them and the kitchen table toward her sister. Outside, Winn had just parked the SUV, and James leaned to look out the window when he heard the doors slam. 

The boys were standing in the entryway, the twins latched onto Krypto, trying to hold her back.

“Wait, just hold on—” Alex started, holding up her hands as she darted around the table in the opposite direction. 

“I can’t believe you—down, Pluto—I can’t believe you would actually—” Kara stammered as she tried to shove the dogs away. She was getting frustrated as she tried to round on her sister. 

“That I would actually _what_? Look out for my baby sister? For my family? Put them first?” Alex shot back. 

“That is _not_ what you did!” Kara fumed, shoving a chair violently out of the way. It crashed into the wall and splintered.

The screen door opened just then as Lucy and Winn stepped in to join the party. 

“So—it didn’t actually go very well.” Lucy whispered to James.

“Yeah, I can see that.” James whispered back. 

“We have to take her back.” Kara hissed, gripping the edge of the table as she dared Alex to make a move, to try to dart around her—which they both knew was impossible. 

“Back to _what_?” Alex snapped. “Do you know where we found her? They had her locked up in the—”

“Kara!” 

Kara turned her head and went completely still, the tips of her ears turning pink. 

Mrs. Lord was standing in the doorway to her bedroom, dressed in a pair of Kara’s sweatpants and one of her old Metro University t-shirts, one with quarter-length sleeves that Mrs. Lord had rolled up. 

Kara barely had time to register this—the fact that Mrs. Lorde was wearing her clothes before the woman had traversed the short distance between them to fling her arms around her neck. 

Kara was so shocked, she lifted slightly in the air before immediately touching back down again, her blue eyes lifting to Alex with a million questions burning in them.

“Kara, I’m so glad you’re here!” Lena sighed, she was still trembling slightly from the near-panic attack she had been fighting off ever since the red-head and the boy with the tablet had arrived at the hospital to steal her away. 

“Oh, ummm—yeah, I—” Kara stuttered.

“Your sister has lost her mind!” Lena proclaimed, pulling away just enough to look up earnestly into the face could only remember vaguely. “Please, please, _please_ tell her that this isn’t our house—that I don’t go diving for oysters and that I was never in the Navy!”

“The Navy?” Kara asked, shooting Alex a confused look. 

“Exactly! That’s not me—I mean, my name isn’t _Lena_. That just doesn’t _feel_ right, I’m not—tell her that she’s wrong. Please? Please fix this. Tell her that we’re not married, you’re not my wife. I don’t know any of these people.” Lena explained, tossing a hand toward the crowd of people standing a few feet away. 

“Really?” Kara asked quietly, her brow furrowing. “You don’t know any of them?”

Lena shook her head emphatically.

Kara swallowed and kept her eyes on Lena, searching for the smallest trace of recognition.

“What about me? Do you recognize me?”

“Of course not.” Lena scoffed. 

Kara’s blue eyes clouded and she glanced down at the floor. 

“That’s the ahh—the amnesia talking.” Lucy coughed. 

“Don’t worry, Mom. She didn’t recognize us either.” Julien called from where he perched on James’s hip. 

Kara let out a heavy breath, her thoughts clanging together and giving her a headache.

“Listen, Lena…I know you’ve been through a lot and you must have a million questions—why don’t you wait in the bedroom for me? I need to talk to my sister for a minute, but then I can—then we can talk.” Kara said slowly.

Lena nodded. She finally felt that she was being taken seriously. 

The _infamous wife_ was more considerate than the supposed sister-in-law. 

“Fine.” She turned and went back into the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind her. 

Kara continued to stare at the floor for a minute, breathing deeply. 

Then she straightened with some effort and turned towards her friends and family all standing guiltily in the entryway. Kara let her eyes flick over every face. 

“So…you’re _all_ in on this?” Kara asked darkly. 

“Well—yeah.” Lucy muttered, dropping her eyes to the ground. James simply nodded.

“Alex talked me into it.” Winn pointed out.

“It’s just a game.” Miguel shrugged.

“16 days.” Walter said. 

Kara walked over and knelt down in front of the youngest of the boys. 

“What does that mean?” 

“We did the calculations.” Colm answered for his brother, pulling out his calculator again. “$7.50 an hour to get your money back—16 days.” 

Kara lifted her blue eyes to Alex, her eyebrows crinkling. 

“Look—her husband just walked out, it was all over the news…I guess it was just too much of a hassle or something, but…the point is—he was just going to leave her there.” Alex said with a shrug. 

Kara sighed and shook her head. 

“I know this is probably moot, but—we can’t just take her back because that’d be admitting that we took her unlawfully in the first place.” Winn said a little nervously. 

“Technically, _we_ didn’t—Alex did.” Lucy corrected. 

“Yeah—I signed my name. If things go sideways, it’s on me, not you.” Alex said evenly.

“You do realize that this is wrong on so many levels.” Kara said, shooting a glare at her sister. 

“All of the fun stuff usually is.” Alex shrugged. 

Kara removed her glasses so she could rub at her eyes. 

“It is fun.” Julien said, his dark blue eyes narrowed as he grinned devilishly. “She’s silly.” 

“And she doesn’t remember anything?” Kara asked, looking up at Alex again. 

“No—the doctors said they have no idea how long it will last.” 

“16 days.” Colm reasserted. 

Kara was startled and looked over at her boys—they all looked rather determined. 

“She owes you, Mom.” Miguel said quietly. 

Kara sighed once more and tried to sort it all out in her head. There were plenty of moral and ethical objections to what they were doing—but at the same time, Kara could still remember those grueling days on the yacht, doing her best to ignore the snide comments and the put downs. 

Kara was not one to hate. Nor even one to really despise. 

But for all of her Kryptonian gifts, she did have her pride. And when Mrs. Lord had called her _incompetent_ —that had stung. 

And Kara Danvers had never exactly been the kind to take a punch lying down. 


	25. And So The Nightmare Begins...

Lena paced in the bedroom while she waited for Kara, still trying to make sense of the events that had landed her here, in this horrid place with all of these strangers. 

She knew she was being lied to, knew it through and through—and yet, there was enough plausibility to every lie that she could not definitively refute the statements that were slowly being chained to her ankles and wrists as if they were preparing to throw her overboard for a burial at sea. 

Lena sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

She stared for a long time at the sunflowers on the windowsill—thinking that they needed to be watered soon, they were looking a little droopy. 

Lena turned her head when there was a slight knock on the door. 

“Lena?” 

Lena ran a hand through her hair and crossed her legs and cleared her throat, trying to appear casual and unconcerned while she was actually willing and ready to get the hell out of here. 

“You may come in.” Lena called, trying to calm her pounding heart. 

Kara came in slowly, almost hesitantly. 

There was something about her—something about the way she avoided Lena’s eyes that Lena took as a bad omen.

“Lena—Alex told me what the doctors said. About your memory.” Kara said slowly. 

She was twisting the hem of her flannel shirt, trying to navigate—whatever this was. 

“Go on.” Lena said icily. 

It seemed the _infamous wife_ hadn’t risen to her defense against the insufferable red-head after all. But Lena wasn’t sure why she’d even thought it could be possible—it had been clear in every photo Alex had shown her—Kara Danvers was a big softie.

Kara’s head snapped up at Lena’s tone, her eyebrows inching together slowly. 

“And the doctors told her that the best way to help you recover is to—ease you back into your routine. Get your old self back.” Kara had timidly come closer as she spoke, and finally she sat beside Lena and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. 

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake.” Lena brushed off the gesture and rose to her feet. 

Now that she had spent a considerable amount of time in this room on her own, away from the strangers and the noise, free to be with her own thoughts, the initial panic and helpless feelings were starting to fade. 

Now she felt indignant. _Enraged_ even. 

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that I frequent the midnight waters of the Pacific Ocean like some insipid idiot searching for oysters? What competent Naval officer would ever do such a thing? Or that after eight years of blissful marriage I just let you uproot our family and drag us all the way out here to _Midvale_ , of all places—it’s absurd.” Lena reasoned. 

“Lena.” Kara interrupted, her blue eyes a little stormy. “I know it’s a lot to take in, and I want to help…but lashing out at me and disparaging the life we’ve built won’t make this any easier.” 

Lena bit down the retort that rose to her lips and instead turned to glare at the drooping sunflowers. 

_This is really happening_. Lena felt a shiver run down her spine. _This is how things are. None of it makes sense, but it’s happening._ _This is my life._

“Why did we come to Midvale?” Lena asked the plant. 

Behind her, Kara shifted a little uncomfortably. 

Her eyes darted instinctively to the bedroom door, but her suit was not hanging there. She’d almost forgotten that she’d stowed it outside. 

“We needed a fresh start.” Kara said simply. 

“Oh _great_.” Lena rolled her neck and stared through the murky window to the sky, letting out a dramatic sigh. “We’re running from the law.”

“What? No—we’re not running from the law.” Kara said quickly. 

“Well, it’s either that or—” Lena’s eyes suddenly widened and she spun around, “Is our marriage in trouble?” 

“What? Lena—where are you getting these ideas?” Kara asked, fiddling with her glasses. 

_Aha! Marriage problems it is._

“Well what other reason would any sane person have to drop a happy life in Metropolis to move all the way out—”

“You know what—we can talk about that later.” Kara stammered, rising to her feet. “Why don’t we go meet the boys—start simple.” 

Lena sighed and allowed Kara to tug on her elbow to guide her from the room. 

Kara’s touch was gentler than Alex’s had been. As was her tone. 

Still, Lena had the rising suspicion that Kara Danvers, the _infamous wife_ , was just as compulsive a liar as her red-headed sister. 

For better or worse, the _infamous wife_ was hiding something from her.


	26. Meet the Family

Kara had sent her friends away before she’d gone to talk to Lena, so the house was a lot less crowded as she took the green eyed woman by the hand and led her back to the front room. 

Alex had been the most reluctant to go, but Kara had given her a look that allowed for no argument. If Kara was going to go along with their plan—she was going to do it her way. 

Kara cleared her throat to get the attention of her boys who appeared to be having some kind of battle in which long rods of markers stuck one upon the other substituted for swords. 

“Hey guys—we’re gonna try this again, okay. On the couch—Lena’s still trying to get her bearings so we all need to use our inside voices and be gentle, alright.” Kara helped Lena into one of the recliners and subtly slid it over to be directly across from the couch where all four boys were now seated.

“Alright, so—as you can see, we’ve got the twins there.” Kara pointed out, her voice softening out of habit as she indicated her tiny bundles of joy. “Julien and Walter.” 

“Julien and Walter.” Lena repeated, trying to commit the names to memory. The two children appeared indistinguishable—but one was smiling sweetly at her while the other had narrowed beady eyes and looked up to something malicious. 

Lena swallowed. 

“Which is Julien and which is Walter?”

“Me! Me!” The one with the smile shouted, raising a hand high in the air. 

The other made a horrifying gagging noise that sounded as if he were both laughing and clearing his throat at the same time. Lena startled a little and gripped the ends of the armrests.

“Julien, am I!” The twin with the croaking voice bellowed. 

Lena turned to stare at Kara. 

“Is there something wrong with that child?” 

“No, no—Julien’s just a fan of Yoda.” Kara chuckled. 

“Yoda?” Lena repeated, at a complete loss. 

“Yoda! Yes, great Jedi Master he is!” The twin, Julien, exclaimed. 

“He has a frog face—just like Julian!” One of the older boys teased, leaning forward to flick his little brother on the ear. 

“Hey!” Julien spun around, his face turning red as he prepared to throw a punch.

“Guys! Guys—you know the rules. No wrestling inside.” Kara interrupted their squabble. 

Lena’s heart had risen to her throat and she was sure that any moment now she was going to choke on it.

“Anyway—in the middle we have Colm, he likes to invent things.” Kara indicated the boy with midnight eyes. 

“Colm.” Lena repeated, nodding her head. 

“And then we have the big guy…” Kara teased, leaning over to nudge Miguel with a big grin. “This is Miguel, he just had his birthday…”

“That’s nice.” Lena interrupted quickly. She felt that trying to remember names was a difficult enough task without adding birthdays and ages and favorite colors to the mess. “There’s…there’s so many of them.” 

“Oh, well—we always said we wanted a big family.” Kara said, shrugging to mask how unsure she was--how uneasy. 

“Oh yeah, we’d love another brother to torture.” Miguel chuckled. 

“No, no! I’m the baby!” Walter shouted, indignant. 

“Haha, act like a baby, you do!” Julien teased his twin. 

“Do not!” Walter shouted before he flung himself at his brother with the intent to maim or seriously injure. 

“Alright, alright—out!” Kara said, pointing to the front door. 

The boys did not need to be told twice. They stampeded out the door, pushing each other and trying to avoid the trampling feet of the enormous dogs that had decided to join them in their retreat from the icy tension that followed Mrs. Lena Danvers around like a shadow. 

It took Lena several moments to regain control of her breathing. 

“Are they all…” Lena trailed off and lifted her hand weakly in a useless gesture. 

“Brilliant? Amazing? Wonderful?” Kara guessed—her favorite words to describe her boys. 

“No, no—are they all adopted?” Lena asked, whispering the word, afraid that somehow the boys wrestling out in the dirt in front of the house would hear. 

Kara chuckled.

“Well, yeah…”

“Oh, thank God…” Lena sighed in relief. 

Kara’s eyes narrowed slightly, “Why thank God?”

Lena shrugged and turned her head away. “Nothing it’s just—I mean, they clearly take after you.”

Kara blinked. She couldn’t decide if Lena was—joking or not. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

Lena snorted. 

“Though, I will have you know that I’ve always thought that they took after your side of the family.” Kara tested the waters. 

Lena’s head snapped up, something in her eyes was sparking. 

“My family? Oh yes, Kara, please tell me about my family! Where’s my mother? Is she still in… _Idaho_?” Lena spat out the word. 

“No, no, she’s…” Kara chuckled, but then almost bit her tongue when she realized she had no idea what lie to tell. “Ahh, well she was…” 

Kara paused, trying to wrack her brain. 

Lena sat up straighter, her eyes widening in shock. “ _Was_? You mean she’s…”

Kara was caught in Lena’s green stare—she heard Lena’s heart-rate pick up and she felt herself nod even though she knew that was probably a terrible thing to do. She just wanted to reassure Lena and stop her from hyperventilating. 

Lena seemed to collapse in on herself. She dropped her head dramatically into her arms on the right armrest and let out a sob. 

“My mother—poor mother. What happened to her?” Lena asked around sniffles. 

“Ahh—cirrhosis.” Kara said, hoping Lena wouldn’t notice she’d posed it as a question.

Lena wailed again and Kara considered reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder, but just then Lena sat up again, her green eyes still blazing.

“What about my father?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s alive and well.” Kara promised, praying to Rao that this was so. 

“But where _is_ he?” Lena demanded, her green eyes narrowing. 

“Oh, well—he, ahh…he hasn’t spoken to us since we announced our engagement.” Kara lied. She knew it was painful—but she couldn’t produce fake parents for Lena on the spot. 

“What?!” Lena’s eyes filled with more tears—real ones this time. “My father didn’t walk me down the aisle!” 

“Ummm…no.” Kara stammered. 

Lena leaned her head back and took deep, shaking breaths, trying to keep the tears inside. 

“But hey—if it makes you feel any better…” Kara started, going to move closer to offer comfort.

“ _Nothing_ could possibly make me feel better.” Lena snapped. “My mother died of a disease commonly brought on by excess of alcohol and my father despises me for marrying a beautiful woman instead of some testosterone riddled buffoon…God, that’s depressing.”

Kara was still kneeling in front of Lena, her mouth hanging open in shock. 

Walter suddenly threw open the screen door, his eyes wide.

“Mom! They’re making me drink blood!”

“Get back here, runt!” Miguel called.

Kara hardly even turned her head, she was still trying to process what Lena had just said. 

“And our children are vampires. Lovely.” Lena muttered. 

“You—you think I’m beautiful?” Kara asked a little breathlessly. 

Lena frowned and glanced down at the woman before her. Who wouldn’t think Kara Danvers was beautiful?

Kara’s heart-shaped face was all soft, long curves and rosy warmth. Her hair was only half up, leaving several golden curls to tumble free around her shoulders. There was no real embellishment to her face—nor did she need any. There was something incredibly enchanting about the raw beauty in her face, the vitality. There was a tint of pink to her cheeks, perhaps a streak or two of blush, but there was nothing severe, no masking or covering up. Behind the glasses, Kara’s eyes were blue and endless, and Lena could see herself in them.

Lena opened her mouth to speak, but then glanced down and saw that Kara had placed her hand on her knee without Lena even realizing it. It wasn’t forceful, or reaching for something more—it was simply there, meant to comfort or console. 

It was then that Lena realized that it wasn’t just the physical attributes of Kara’s form that made her feel warmth in her chest and an ache for something she couldn’t name.

Lena swallowed and shifted her position, crossing her legs in a way that intentionally forced Kara’s hands away. 

Lena glanced up towards one of the front windows, clearing her throat as she tried to close herself off from the emotions that had been grinding her down all this time. 

“Of course. I’m sure I’ve thought so since the beginning.” Lena said brusquely. 

Kara nodded curtly, staring down at the lint stuck along the bottom of the recliner’s cushions. 

“Right. Seattle.” Kara muttered.

“Ugh, please—I don’t want to hear anymore.” Lena sighed, raising a hand as she dropped her chin into the cup of her hand. “I’d rather just wait it out and remember for myself from now on.” 

Kara was quiet for a moment, watching Lena intently. 

“Okay, fine.” Kara said softly. She braced herself and stood. 

She hesitated for a moment to see if Lena would change her mind, ask anything else, but the green-eyed woman continued to stare out the window, her expression cold and calm. 

Kara sighed and left her to her thoughts. 

She went out onto the porch to call in the boys before it got too dark.


	27. Lena's First 'Family' Dinner

“Okay…who’s hungry?” Kara asked as soon as the last protesting child had tracked mud across the threshold into the house. 

“I was thinking we could order some Chinese, or—”

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m starving!” Miguel suddenly shouted, seeming much more animated than he had a moment ago when Kara had made him release the bullfrogs he had caught and stuffed in his pockets. 

“Me too, Miguel.” Colm replied, also eyeing Lena who was still sitting quietly in the den. 

“Umm, guys?” Kara tried to interrupt. 

“If only Mother could make us some dinner.” Miguel sniffled. 

“Oh yes, Mother’s the best cook in the whole world!” Colm replied overzealously. 

Lena suddenly seemed to catch wind of what the boys were saying and sat up in her chair, turning to peek over the top toward the boys clustered together at the bottom of the stairs.

“Starving, I am!” Julien roared. 

Kara’s mouth had dropped open and she stared in shock at her sons. 

“I—I cook?” Lena stammered, her stomach turning queasy. 

“Oh yes, Mother—it’s one of your favorite things!” Colm suddenly sprang across the room and grabbed Lena’s hand.

“You love to cook!” Miguel added.

“Yes, lots!” Walter chipped in. 

“Feed me!” Julien shrieked. 

Lena was not sure how she ended up with all four boys dragging her into the kitchen—but she did know that her _infamous wife_ Kara Danvers did absolutely nothing to intervene. 

“You love making us pies and desserts!” Colm exclaimed, throwing open a cabinet that looked to be full of marshmallows and chocolate and cans of pie filling. 

“And pizza!” Walter shouted, pulling out a pan that was in no way, shape, or form suitable for cooking pizza. 

“Enjoy mashed potatoes, I do!” Julian insisted, tugging at Lena’s sweat pants. 

“Here, Mother, I’m sure you’ll know what to do with this.” Miguel said sweetly as he handed Lena a—Lena almost fainted when she realized she was holding a dead chicken. 

“I—I prepared and handled raw food?” Lena croaked. 

“Yeah, we hunt it and you cook it, woman!” Miguel roared, puffing out his chest.

“You shot a chicken?!” Lena squeaked, eyeing the young men around her with a new set of fears. 

“Alright, alright—let’s take it down a notch.” Kara was a calming presence in the flurry of chaos that had taken over the kitchen. “Guys, come on—it’s your Ma’s first night back from the hospital, don’t you think we should let her take a night off?”

“No!” Was the resounding verdict.

Lena tried to stuff the dead chicken into the pan Walter had provided, but the little legs just wouldn’t stay down. 

“Hurry up, _Ma_ , we’re starving!” Colm whined. 

“I’m sorry, just—give me a minute.” Lena stammered, looking around for some kind of sharp implement she could use to cut away the feet—the thought made her sick. 

"Mom, did you know that in Preschool they make us take naps without reading us a story first?” Walter asked idly of Kara as he watched Lena struggling with the food. 

“No—I didn’t know that.” Kara said. 

“Yeah, well in first grade we don’t get naps, so enjoy it while it lasts.” Colm warned his little brother. 

“School stinks!” Julien announced, turning a sack of potatoes upside down.

“It’s strange but…I feel as if I’ve never done this before in my life.” Lena muttered, all of her concentration pinpointed on the pot and the chicken and the carrots she had stuck in for good measure. 

“What about you, big guy—do you think school stinks too?” Kara asked as she kicked a potato back and forth with Miguel.

“I don’t know, it’s okay.” Miguel replied, noncommittally. “English is kinda hard though.”

“That’s okay—just go at your own pace.” Kara said, bouncing the potato up to her hand before tossing it into the basket of onions and other vegetables on the counter. 

“But…what if all the other kids are going faster than me?” Miguel asked hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll catch up.” Kara said as she knelt to pick up the few other potatoes still on the floor—those that Julien hadn’t pounded into mush with his shoes. 

“Nothing’s happening.” Lena said, her brow furrowing. 

She stepped back and eyed the pot at a different angle. She fidgeted with the knobs again, and checked to ensure that she was in fact turning the right one—and still nothing happened. 

“That’s ‘cuz you gotta light the burner.” Colm said. He was sitting at the table, sitting backwards in his chair, watching Lena as she struggled about the kitchen. 

“Oh right—” Lena turned around and almost slipped on the mush that Julien had spread all over the kitchen floor. “What the—what is this?!” 

“Mashed potatoes.” Julien fired up at her with a glare. 

Lena rolled her eyes and glanced up, trying to locate her _infamous wife_ , whom she had thought was also her partner in child rearing. The blood rose hotly to her cheeks when she saw that Kara was flinging potatoes across the kitchen with the oldest boy—and the other twin was drawing on the refrigerator with the mushy gunk that his double had created. 

“Kara!” Lena barked. 

Kara’s laugh died in her throat and she turned her head just as one of the potatoes slammed into her bicep and exploded. 

“Yes?” 

Lena’s eye twitched. “I need to light the burner.” 

“Oh, right—well, grab a match.” Kara shrugged. 

“What? I don’t—I don’t know _where_ the matches _are_ Kara, that’s why I need your—” Lena had turned her back to start flinging open cabinets as she grumpily scolded at Kara. 

Kara winked at Miguel and deftly reached up to lower her glasses so she could use her laser vision to light the burner while Lena’s back was turned. She had done it thousands of times before, and it always made the boys squeal with delight. 

In retrospect—

Kara probably should have realized that Lena had turned the gas all the way up to a dangerous 7, and perhaps refrained from lighting the spark. 

There was a small explosion in the kitchen.

Flames licked up the side of the inadequate pot, and Lena cried out.

Miguel gasped and Colm shot up from his seat. Both boys shouted “Fire!” and darted off in opposite directions. 

Kara was across the room in the blink of an eye, scooping up Lena to pull her away from the stove. 

Julien had darted under the table. Miguel had snatched up Walter and dragged him by the collar out of the kitchen where the flames were still reaching for the ceiling. 

“Oh, Rao, Lena—are you alright?” Kara asked as she hovered just enough to get over the mashed potatoes on the floor so she could get Lena to a chair without slipping and sliding. Lena didn’t seem to notice, she was staring up at the ceiling with dull eyes while her nostrils continued to flare dangerously with each breath. 

“Five seconds!” Kara called over her shoulder as she knelt in front of Lena. 

“Lena, hey—let me see.” Kara soothed, reaching for the hand Lena held close to her chest. 

“Something’s burning.” Lena said dully.

Kara turned just enough to look over her shoulder to see that the flames had in fact caught on to several of the chicken’s feathers. 

“Miguel, run and get the burn ointment!” Kara called. 

She turned her attention back to Lena and gingerly pried her hand away. 

“Ouch! That hurts.” Lena complained. 

“It’s alright—it’s not that bad.” Kara said gently.

Just then, Colm rushed back in, lugging a fire extinguisher. He let out a war cry as he doused the stovetop in cooling foam. 

Kara grinned. It was their rule—Kara wanted the boys to know how to put out fires on their own, but she never let one burn for more than five seconds. But this time, Colm had retrieved the extinguisher in time to have the honor of putting out the flames himself. 

“Great hustle, buddy.” Kara praised. 

“Is that all of it?!” Colm asked, spinning wildly. 

Walter and Julien wordlessly pointed toward Lena who was still cradling her hand. 

Colm let out a shriek and lurched forward, squeezing the pin again to douse Lena’s burn. 

Lena lifted her eyes to the ceiling and accepted the onslaught—this was now her lot in life. 

Foam puffed harmlessly against her chest and gathered in her lap, sliding slowly down her thighs.

Kara tried not to laugh, and put a hand on Colm’s shoulder. 

“Alright, that’s enough—that’s enough.” 

Colm stepped back, breathing heavily. 

“So—I guess we don’t need the ointment?” Miguel asked from the landing up above.

Kara sighed and glanced from the stovetop all covered in foam to the kitchen floor still oozing with mashed potatoes—Julien and Walter had somehow managed to find a bottle of chocolate syrup and were passing it back and forth, getting chocolate over everything. Lastly, Kara glanced at Lena who looked traumatized. 

Kara rubbed at the back of her neck and tried to fight off the exhaustion that was settling into her limbs. 

“Right. Looks like we’re going to be ordering in some Chinese after all.” 


	28. Alone with the Children

Lena was too exhausted to eat much of the food Kara put in front of her, and, if she was honest—the smell of the fried meals turned her stomach a little. 

The boys however, dug in like animals, scarfing down everything in sight…and there was _a lot_ in sight. 

Kara had ordered enough for a small army for some reason. 

Lena spent most of the dining hour staring numbly at all of them, Kara and the boys, as they shoveled wantons and lo mein noodles and sesame chicken and potstickers into their mouths, and tried not to vomit.

No sooner had Lena risen to throw away a few of the empty containers, then she heard a chair scraping back along the linoleum. 

Lena turned, but Kara’s chair was empty. 

Panic leapt in her chest and she dropped the empty containers to dart across the living room toward the kitchen—then down the hall to the door. 

Kara was there, slipping into a jacket. 

“Where are you going?” Lena demanded. 

Kara looked up, startled. 

“Oh, ahh—I was going to meet up with Alex.” Kara explained. 

“But—you can’t leave me here with them.” Lena stammered.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be back later.” Kara promised, giving Lena’s hand a squeeze before she slipped out the door. 

Lena stood frozen there for a moment. Her hands were suspended in mid-air, as if she were still reaching for Kara. 

Something large crashed in the living room and Lena took a sharp breath. 

She reached up to run a hand through her hair and then turned to go back into the fray. 

Lena froze when she saw that several of the takeout containers had been knocked to the floor and the two large mutts were licking up rice and slobbering over everything. 

Lena’s nose crinkled in disgust. 

“No—no, this is unacceptable.” Lena stepped daintily around the discarded food and moved into the circle of boys who were still munching away.

“You—the big—the big one.” Lena snapped in Miguel’s direction. “Take these animals outside.” 

“But I want Krypto and Pluto to stay.” Walter lamented.

“Well, Pluto and Kryptid are just going to have to get used to eating outside—inside is where the people live. Dogs are for outside.” Lena wasn’t sure exactly why she felt the need to simplify her language to such a degree, but she had her hands full tugging on the collar of one of the large brutes. 

“Mom lets them eat with us all the time.” Colm claimed. 

“Yes well, _your mother_ isn’t here right now.” Lena grunted. 

Miguel appeared at her shoulder then and snatched the collar out of her hands without ceremony, turning to take the dog out the front door to join his companion. 

“She’s gone?” Julien asked, lifting his head and noticing for the first time that the chair Kara had dragged into the living room so she could sit with them all around the small coffee table was now empty. 

“It would appear so.” Lena said sourly. 

“I hate it when she leaves!” Julien wailed. 

Lena frowned and glanced over the toddler’s head to the older boy. 

“Is that—is that a common occurrence? For—for Kara to leave like that?” Lena asked.

“Yeah.” Colm sighed, setting aside his takeout. 

“Pretty much every night.” Miguel grunted as he sauntered back into the room. He plopped down beside his brother, but didn’t take up any more food either. It seems they had finally sated their hunger. 

“Where does she go?” Lena asked. 

The boys both gasped slightly and exchanged startled and worried glances. 

“She goes to see Aunt Alex.” Walter supplied the answer to Lena’s question as he made a tower of empty takeout boxes. 

“Shut up! That’s a secret!” Julien shouted, kicking out to knock over his twin’s tower. 

Walter’s eyes welled with tears and he tipped his head back to cry. 

Lena eyed the crying child, but kept her attention on the older two boys who were fidgeting and clearly knew the answers she sought. 

“What’s a secret?” 

“Well, she—” Colm paused and glanced at his older brother. 

Miguel sighed and turned chocolate brown eyes on Lena, “She goes out to the bar. For beer. They drink beer.” 

Colm’s eyes were wide as he heard his brother spell out the most blatant lie.

“Oh.” Lena’s heart felt heavy.

There was a beat of relative silence as Walter continued to sniffle. 

“When does she usually come back?” Lena finally asked. 

Miguel stood and kicked away one of the empty containers, making Walter cry louder. 

“Whenever she feels like it.” He said meanly. 

“Oh.” Lena said again. 

Miguel stalked around Lena and headed for the stairs. 

Colm looked frightened as he scrambled to his feet and scurried after his brother. 

“Stop whining, baby.” Julien scolded his twin and stuck out his tongue. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” Lena said with a frown. 

“You’re not very nice!” Julien shot back. He leapt up to his feet and ran away. 

Lena blinked and glanced down at the mess all over the coffee table and floor—now both the kitchen and the front room looked as if they’d been hit by some kind of freak food storm. 

Walter wiped his nose on his sleeve, but continued to cry loudly. It was starting to give Lena a headache. 

Lena glanced around once and then slowly slid to her knees. 

She scooted a little closer to the wailing child and tentatively reached out a hand. 

“There, there twin—it’ll be alright.” Lena tried to soothe. 

At her touch, the child shot straight up in the air as if he’d been burned, and let out a wail louder than any before. He ran blindly away from her, his legs somehow faithfully taking him up the stairs to sanctuary. 

Lena sat in shock for several long moments, her fingers curling into a fist as she lowered her hand. 

Her house was a mess. Her wife was gone. Her children hated her. And she had no idea if she had any pajamas. 

Lena’s life was growing drearier and drearier by the minute. 

And she still had the achingly familiar sensation that as wrong as all of this was, it was also somehow _deserved_ —that things were this way because she was a— _something_. She just didn't know what. 


	29. The Conspirators Gather at the Bar

Kara took off from the DEO balcony and lazily arched over the soft burning lights of Midvale. 

She needed a moment alone in the stratosphere, to sort out all of her feelings. There was no better place to get a sense of peace in Kara’s opinion. She was high enough that even the surge of nightly traffic was a dull mumble and the gentle kiss of clouds was chilled enough to jolt her entire body. 

Kara had had a trying day, and after a stressful hour of loading cargo for the dispersing soldiers under J’onn’s watchful eyes, Kara was in need of a moment to herself—to fill her lungs with crisp, clean oxygen. 

It wasn’t that Kara didn’t _enjoy_ spending time at the DEO. 

It was simply that tonight she had walked in expecting to be free to speak with Alex and Winn—only to realize too late that Winn had sent her a text informing her that their usual rendezvous point had been changed to the local bar. This was due to the fact that they were all caught up in a scheme that was both highly illegal and nefarious—and their boss, the green martian, could read minds. 

But Kara had somehow failed to read this message before she had stepped into the DEO, and had therefore found herself wandering the halls, looking for her friends while she tried to look inconspicuous. Now that LiveWire was no longer a threat, the soldiers were packing up and leaving, and the DEO agents themselves were going through mandatory updates and taking inventory—meaning it was fairly boring for the part-time superhero who had simply dropped in to talk to two very important agents. 

J’onn had been able to tell immediately that Kara was not herself tonight, even if she was one of the few whose minds were safe from his telepathic ability. Normally, Kara would have been more than relieved to share her feelings with her mentor and friend, J’onn was one she often went to for advice, after Alex of course, but with this— _Lena problem_ , Kara couldn’t bring herself to tell the kindly director. 

She didn’t even want to imagine the look he would give her, the disappointment. 

So she had thrown herself to the wolves, and slaved away for the bossy soldier commanders—shifting heavy cargo containers and whole tanks for them without complaint. 

As soon as she’d seen an opening, she had excused herself and flown off, leaving J’onn looking concerned—but she knew he was too considerate to pry. For which she would be eternally grateful. Though she knew he was not completely fooled—Alex and Winn both calling in sick at such short notice was suspicious, and Kara shuddered to think about the intense interrogations that would await her friends when they finally dragged themselves back into work. 

But tonight, they were all gathered in the bar, still riding an adrenaline high from pulling off such a dangerous scheme. 

Kara could hear them laughing before she’d even touched down in the alley behind the bar. Granted—she could hear most everyone else in the bar as well, the fry cooks, the bowling balls slamming into pins, couples arguing and one or two attendants humming along to the jukebox tunes; but she instinctively tuned in to her friends first, and Alex’s heartbeat to be more precise. It was a calming influence. 

Kara stepped out from behind a dumpster, now fully garbed in her everyday civilian clothes and slipped her glasses up onto her nose as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. There were at least fifteen motorcyles parked out in front of the bar, with a few of the owners still straddling their machines, chatting and talking in low tones. 

Kara stuck her hands in her pockets and ducked her head as she walked past one of the biker’s she’d left with a black eye last week when she’d broken up a brawl—though she knew the glasses and pastel flannel usually fooled most people.

Inside, the atmosphere was relaxed, calm even—the kind of calm that Kara had never really experienced in any of the bars in Metropolis. Kara let out the breath she’d been holding and rolled her shoulders, letting the haze wash over her. There were a few groups lazily finishing up at the lanes and others just starting up at pool, but the tough bikers had sequestered themselves to their usual area and seemed content to lounge around the jukebox—ensuring that no one dared try to interfere with their insistence on playing Dean Martin over and over again. Kara nodded toward several faces that she knew, but she didn’t bother stopping to talk, she was scanning for her sister’s red hair or Winn’s colorful vest. 

Kara stepped around a couple making out against one of the support beams that had been covered in sparkling lights and almost ran into a waitress. 

“Hey Kara!” Eve smiled warmly.

“Oh, hi.” Kara said distractedly. She’d just spotted Alex in a corner booth and had hardly noticed that Mike, the bartender, had waved in her direction. 

“Here—your usual.” Eve grinned, placing a club soda into Kara’s hands. She winked at Kara, letting her know that once again—the drink was a gift from Mike. 

Kara nodded and stuck the straw between her teeth. 

“Thanks.” She stepped around Eve and made her way to the table where her friends were gathered. 

Alex, Winn, James, and Lucy were all talking animatedly, several empty glasses already cluttering the center of the table, but all jovial talk ceased as soon as Kara’s shadow blocked out the already low light. 

“Oh gosh—K-Kara! There you are! How are you?” Winn stammered, immediately trying to act casual and distract from the fact that the group had been talking about Kara up until that precise moment. He tried to prop his elbow up on the tabletop, but the surface was too smooth and he slipped forward. He would have smacked his forehead against the table if Kara hadn’t reacted faster than was humanly possible to grab his collar and keep him steady.

“Thanks.” Winn murmured sheepishly. 

“Hey Kara!” Lucy called brightly as she shoved at James to get him to scoot over and make room.

“I would like to state for the record—that you’re _all_ terrible and I despise you.” Kara said grouchily as she set down her now empty glass and sat down next to James, pointedly ignoring the space that was always left open for her—the spot next to Alex.

“Now that’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” James soothed.

“No, I don’t think so.” Kara shot back. “Not when you’ve all gone behind my back to commit multiple felonies…”

“You’re not going to turn us in, are you? I mean—we only did it to help you.” Winn pointed out as he gestured wildly with his beer. Kara and James both leaned a little to try to avoid the flying droplets, but Kara felt a few on her forehead. She made a face and reached up to wipe them away. 

“She won’t turn us in, Winn. She loves us too much to send us to the slammer.” Lucy said matter-of-factly as she sipped daintily at her tequila. 

“No, no, no—I’d _definitely_ be alright with sending all of you to jail.” Kara retorted, even though they all knew she didn’t really mean it. Alex snorted and Kara shot her a glare, “And I wouldn’t even visit you.”

“Oh please.” Alex scoffed. She tipped back her beer and then narrowed her eyes at her sister. “You’re enjoying it and you know it.” 

“Am not.” Kara glared, puffing out her chest slightly. 

“Not even just a little?” Alex prodded, her lips quirking up into a teasing expression that nettled Kara _just enough_ to tinge her cheeks pink. 

“Of course not! We’ve uprooted this poor woman and given her nothing but lies—”

“She’s not exactly poor.” Winn pointed out. 

“You know what I mean!” Kara snapped. “She has no idea who she is and she’s confused and vulnerable and what we’re doing is completely—”

“I’m pretty sure that woman could stand to be confused and vulnerable for a few days. It’ll do her good.” Alex grumbled, her eyes drifting back to the shadowy corner of the bar where the pool tables stood in a line.

“You didn’t see her when she asked about her family, Alex. She was crying and it was horrible.” Kara said evenly.

“She asked about her family?” Lucy repeated, her hazel eyes growing wide. 

“Oh.” James’s warm chocolate eyes grew troubled. 

“That’s—not so good for us.” Winn sighed, looking a little less animated now.

“What did you say?” Alex asked sharply, the shadows around the pool table forgotten. 

“Oh—well, I don’t—” Kara fumbled with her glasses, avoiding Alex’s eyes.

“Kara.” Alex said darkly, “What did you tell her?”

“I don’t—I panicked, okay.” Kara admitted, biting her lower lip. “I might have told her that her mother is dead and that her father’s estranged…”

“You what?!” Lucy sounded aghast. Winn too almost choked on his beer. 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Kara defended. “She asked about her parents and I just froze up! It’s not like I could tell her that they just lived down the street—”

“No, but you didn’t have to kill them!” Lucy interjected. 

“I know!” Kara groaned. “But she thought I wasn’t answering because something terrible had happened to them and so she asked if her mother was gone and I might have nodded because I didn’t know what else to do and then she started crying and I just wanted to make her feel better and then she asked about her father and all I could think to say was that they haven’t spoken since we announced our engagement and that just made her cry harder—”

“Wow—that’s terrible, Kara.” Winn said sympathetically. 

“I know.” Kara mumbled, glaring down at the tabletop. 

“Hey, being a bad liar is one of the things that we love about you, Kara.” James soothed.

Kara smiled gratefully. 

“Yeah, just not in this situation.” Lucy snorted. 

“Yeah, why didn’t you just tell her that they were back home?” Winn asked.

“In _Goober, Idaho_?” Kara demanded sarcastically. “The _nuclear waste dump_?”

“Exactly!” Winn snapped his fingers. “Quarantine! Nobody in, nobody out—it would’ve been perfect. It could have explained why you couldn’t go visit and—”

“You do realize that there is no such place as Goober, Idaho.” Lucy drawled, giving Winn a look as she reached out to take up a lemon slice. 

“Not anymore.” Winn replied with a dark smirk. 

“No guys, Kara’s explanation was actually pretty perfect. Genius actually.” Alex mused as she idly took another sip of her beer. “Keeping them alive is risky, even if you place them halfway across the country—because what parent wouldn’t drop everything to fly to their daughter’s bedside if she went missing and then had to face something as traumatic as amnesia? And even if they didn’t fly in, she’d still expect regular calls to check in or at least a concerned email. Still, killing both off would have been cruel, so keeping the father alive, but at a distance is the perfect way to make her feel she isn’t completely alone while simultaneously bolstering the realization that you are her saving grace because you’ve planted the idea that she has chosen _you_ over a condescending, bull-headed parent.” 

Alex paused when she realized all of the others were staring at her with shocked expressions. 

“What?” She shrugged and took another sip of her beer, smacking her lips this time. “It’s true.” 

“You, Alex Danvers, are a despicable human being.” Lucy said.

“Ugh. I can’t do this.” Kara huffed, flopping back against her cushions once more. 

“Sure you can, you just can’t be so— _Kara_ about it.” Winn encouraged with a genuine smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kara asked, not bothering to sit up though she did blow a curl out of her eyes. 

“Well—for one thing, you can’t go around feeling sorry for her all the time.” Winn started, glancing around for help from the others. Lucy gave him a nod as she took up James’s drink. 

“You have to remember that all of this is so she can work off the debt she owes you…” Winn went on. 

Kara rolled her eyes and flicked absently at the bendy straw in her glass. 

“You sound just like the boys.” Kara muttered. 

“The boys.” Alex suddenly sat forward, once again interested in the conversation. “Why? What did they do?” 

“They got it in their heads to tell Lena that her favorite thing to do was cook…”

“Oh my God.” Winn gasped.

“Cooking?” Lucy demanded. “Miss perfect nails and perfect hair was cooking?” 

“I didn’t say she actually did it.” Kara interrupted, her lips twitching for the first time that night. 

“Did she try?” James asked.

“I wanted to order Chinese.” Kara insisted. 

“But that’s no fun.” Winn protested. Alex swatted his arm, her eyes on her sister. 

Kara rolled her eyes and pushed her glasses up further on her nose. 

“Well, the boys came in complaining about how hungry they were and I was gonna order in, but the next thing I knew, they were dragging Lena into the kitchen telling her that she was the best cook in the world and handing her pots and pans and she just looked so stunned…”

“Yeah, I bet.” Alex grinned, imaging it sent a contented thrum through her entire being and relaxed her. 

“And she couldn’t figure out how to get the stove to work, and so I—”

“You didn’t!” Alex hissed gleefully—she’d never wanted Kara to contradict her more in her life. 

“I didn’t mean to!” Kara shot back, the look on her face making Alex let out a triumphant laugh. “I didn’t realize that she’d turned the burner all the way up to seven—”

“God, Kara, is the house still standing?!” Lucy asked, her jaw dropping. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine. Everybody’s fine. There was a small fire, but it’s all fine.” Kara explained quickly.

“A fire?” Winn squeaked. 

“Well, I mean, the chicken caught on fire, but Colm grabbed the fire extinguisher in time, so it was fine—nobody was hurt.” Kara insisted. 

“ _God_ , I would have _killed_ to see that.” Alex hummed, licking her lips at the thought. 

Lucy turned slightly to look up at James. “Did I already say that she’s a despicable human being?” 

“You can always say it again.” James murmured, grinning.

“I’m not the one who let it happen.” Alex defended, giving her sister a smirk. “Come on, Kara—you have to admit—that must have been pretty fun.” 

“Leave her alone.” Lucy slapped weakly at Alex’s wrist in reprimand. 

Alex ignored Lucy and winked in her sister’s direction as she took another hearty swallow of beer. 

Kara’s ears were burning and she glanced down at her tangled fingers in her lap. 

“Okay _yes_ …” Kara drew out the word. “Watching her stumble around in the kitchen and stuff was a little bit fun—and I _may_ have laughed, but that doesn’t make it _right_.”

“See! There you go!” Winn cheered, tipping the neck of his beer bottle in Kara’s direction. “Now all you gotta do is be more like Alex. Cold. Calculating…”

“Incredible. Amazing. Resourceful. Determined.” Lucy cut in quickly when she saw the way Alex’s face darkened, she widened her eyes at Winn and jerked her head slightly to give him warning. 

“Oh yeah, exactly. Totally Bad-Ass and…and so warm and caring.” Winn stammered. 

“I am a highly trained, lethal government operative. I don’t _do_ warm and caring.” Alex said without changing her expression. 

“That’s a lie.” Kara laughed. “I know four little boys who would beg to disagree…”

“That’s different.” Alex said with the slightest uptick to her tone. “They’re family. Family requires attention and affection.” 

“Okay, well what about us?” Lucy asked as she hooked an arm around James and Winn, pulling them toward her so they could offer Alex cheesy smiles—though Winn still looked nervous. 

Alex’s eyebrow quirked. “Non-threats. A degree of warmth is permitted for friends—”

“Oh come on, Alex.” James chuckled. “Everyone here knows you’re a big softie on the inside.” 

“Yeah, I mean, the other night when Maggie came over here you totally blushed.” Winn added. 

“Shut up, Schott.” Alex snapped.

Kara perked up, her blue eyes glinting when she saw how Alex’s face changed.

“Who’s Maggie?” Kara demanded.

“No one.” Alex said quickly. 

“She’s this cop. Maggie Sawyer.” Winn explained, leaning across the table to tell Kara the story. “Initially I thought she might be Hot Schott material, but when I went over to ask her out it turns out that she already had a girlfriend and I felt like a complete ass, but then she came over to introduce herself and make Alex suffer so the moral of the story is that you should never, _ever_ trust Alex to help you get dates.”

“I don’t know—sometimes she gets it right.” James said lightly as Lucy leaned into his side. 

It had in fact been Alex who had brought the two together. She’d known Lucy since college, as the younger Lane girl had once thought a medical degree might be in her future if things didn’t work out with the Army—but then Lucy had given in to her father’s wishes and joined to please him while Alex had also diverged from her intended path to work for the government in a more clandestine capacity. And once, when Lucy came to visit Alex during basic training, the two had packed up to visit Kara in Metropolis—where Alex had introduced her friend to Kal, Kara’s cousin, and his best friend—Jimmy Olsen.

Kal had always said that the two would have met eventually—as he was in fact dating Lucy’s older sister. But it had been Alex who’d done the legwork and gotten the two in the same room. She’d always been good at reading people. 

“But she made Alex blush?” Kara queried, glancing at her sister. “Alex doesn’t usually get flustered around cops. Not even when they pull her over for speeding.”

“She just caught me off guard. That’s all.” Alex said stonily as she picked at the label of her beer bottle. 

“Was it the dimples or the studs on the belt?” Lucy teased, giving Alex a sly smile. 

Kara gasped. “She had _dimples_?!”

Alex looked like she was ready to strangle all of her friends in quick succession, starting with the Schott boy on her right. 

James carefully reached out to take up his drink, even though Lucy had hardly left him any. He kept his brown eyes on Alex, moving slowly so as not to incur her wrath. He caught her eye and smiled ever so slightly. 

“Your three o’clock. Pool table two.”

Alex’s face paled as Kara and Lucy both jumped up to their knees, swiveling to peer over the back of their bench toward the pool tables. 

“Where?! I don’t see her!” Kara insisted, squinting through the smoky haze.

“No, no—over there.” Lucy whispered, reaching over to turn Kara’s chin in the right direction. 

“Where? I don’t—” Winn started to his feet to try to peer over as well, but Alex caught his arm and yanked him back down. 

“You sit.” She growled. 

“Which one is she?” Kara asked out of the corner of her mouth. “There’s a blond and—”

“No, no—she’s the short one with the raven hair, leather jacket, cute little cheeks, gorgeous complexion—oh, hey look—she’s winning.” Lucy described. 

As the short woman leaned over the pool table to gauge her shot, Kara could in fact see the golden glint that had to be her police shield clipped to her hip. The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder and then took her shot with a quick ‘snap’.

“Wow. She’s good.” Kara whistled.

“She’s cute too.” Winn observed. 

“Cute? She’s got dimples _and_ a handgun—that’s _adorable_.” Kara gushed.

“Hey now—you’ve already got a wife.” Lucy reminded Kara dryly. 

Kara’s face immediately fell. 

“Oh, yeah.” Kara slumped back down into her seat, looking deflated.

“Hey—it can’t be that bad.” James offered, brushing a few fingers along Kara’s arm, concerned. James had come out to Midvale at Kal’s request to help Kara with the transition, but he’d known her for years and felt brotherly toward her—he hated seeing her upset. 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s like you said…” Winn joined in quickly, also hoping to cheer up his best friend. “Maggie, she’s—she’s _adorable_ , but Lena? Lena’s—she’s just _wow_.” Winn made an explosive hand gesture, hoping that helped articulate the comparison.

Kara lifted her head. It wasn’t only her ears anymore that were tinged pink—her entire face looked a little red. 

“What? No, that’s—”

“She does have good body.” Lucy pointed out—hospital gowns could only hide so much. 

“And a pretty decent face.” James said with a shrug. 

“ _So_? That’s—that’s beside the point!” Kara stammered, looking anywhere but at her friends who were grinning like imps and Cheshire cats. 

“And what _is_ the point?” Lucy asked, propping her chin up in the cup of her hand gracefully. 

“Well, I—the point is that we aren’t _actually_ married so that’s just—she’s in a vulnerable enough position as it is and—and in real life we probably wouldn’t even be friends…”

“Yeah, because she’s a bitch.” Alex muttered. 

“No, that’s not—ugh!” Kara rubbed at her forehead and glared at her sister. 

“I don’t know, I mean, you’re a pretty friendly person.” Winn pointed out. 

“Yeah, you’ve befriend a lot of interesting people.” Lucy added. 

“That mean Scrooge guy who used to mess up your order at Noonan’s.” James pointed out. 

“The president.” Lucy chimed in.

“Those guys who were really mad that you let your fight with Metallo spread out to their golf-course…” James remembered.

“Basically everyone at that Alien Bar.” Lucy interjected.

“Clark said you got Batman to smile once.” James told the table.

“Barry Allen!” Winn remembered with a snap of his fingers.

“Ugh, _boys_.” Lucy rolled her eyes in disgust. “You’re forgetting Wonder Woman—she told you she would spar with you any day, Kara— _any day_! That’s a _big deal_ —especially since Lois said that every time the Justice guys even _suggest_ sparring she gets annoyed and sends them all home with bruises and sprains…”

“Okay, that might be an exaggeration.” James cut in, frowning at his girlfriend. 

“Lois said Clark had to soak in Epsom salts for two days the last time he suggested that Wonder Woman ‘warm up’ before a fight.” Lucy shot back, indignant. 

“Clark could still take her.” James pointed out, coming to his friend’s defense. 

“Yeah, when _Kara’s_ there to help.” Lucy retorted. 

“Right, and you’ve also got Mike.” Winn interrupted the lover’s squabble a little clumsily and pointed toward the bar.

“Oh, yeah…” James rubbed at the back of his neck. “Those StarHaven hippies.”

“My father.” Lucy added. “Oh, and Miss Grant. And she doesn’t like _anybody_ , but she’s already pulling strings to get you in touch with the right people so you can get something permanent and stick around.” 

“Okay, okay…” Kara held up her hands. She could feel the start of a headache just behind her eyes. “I get it.”

“We’re just trying to remind you that you’re a great person.” Winn said gently. 

“And that everyone loves you.” Lucy added. 

“Okay, but Lena’s different.” Kara insisted. “I don’t think she’d be dazzled by the whole—superhero thing. And besides…she’s too rich for my blood.” 

Lucy’s mouth dropped open, a rebuttal ready on her lips, but Alex beat her to it. 

“So is chocolate cake.” 

Winn and James both frowned. Kara looked equally confused.

“Chocolate cake?” Winn repeated, his eyes darting to Kara, then James, and then Lucy—but none of his friends seemed to have any idea what Alex was talking about. 

“Yes, chocolate cake.” Alex said evenly. “It’s pretty rich too. Full of sugar. It’s not very good for you and you probably shouldn’t overindulge, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy some every once in awhile.” 

Silence reigned over the table for a long minute. 

“I would _really love_ …to unpack that metaphor with you.” Lucy muttered as she tugged James’s hand closer so she could glance down at the watch on his wrist. “But unfortunately, I have inspection tomorrow morning at 6, so—”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry Lucy.” James immediately apologized as he too glanced down at his watch. “Let me grab our coats and we can head out.” 

Kara hurried to slide out of the booth to let James by and accidentally bumped the table. Several of the beakers that weren’t quite empty tumbled over and amber liquid dribbled into Kara’s lap. James was quick to grab some napkins to try to mop it up, but Kara just sighed and stepped away from the table—it just wasn’t her night. 

“I’m sorry too, Lucy—I didn’t mean to keep you out so late.” Kara said with a sigh as Lucy scooted out of the booth and stood to give Kara a hug and hand her a towel she’d snatched from one of the waitresses.

Alex and Winn had also vacated the booth, sliding out the other side, away from the spill. They stood close by, waiting to see their friends off. 

“No, no—don’t apologize Kara. It’s not your fault—and I actually found it vastly entertaining. It’s all pretty exciting. You know— _breaking the law_.” Lucy whispered and grinned at Kara as she pulled Winn toward her for a one-armed hug before embracing Alex more fully. 

“You’re sticking around for the Fall Fest, right?” Alex asked her friend as Lucy stepped back and James helped her into her coat. 

“Yes—Daddy doesn’t _really_ need me until the end of the month, but I’d rather not push it.” Lucy explained as she waited for James to finish dolling out quick hugs to their friends.

Alex rolled her eyes. She wanted to point out that General Lane had an entire army at his beck and call—surely he could stand to let Lucy have a few days to herself. Alex still didn’t feel as if they’d had the proper time to adequately catch up after their latest period of prolonged separation. 

“Don’t worry, Alex, I’m in no hurry to go back.” Lucy added softly, seeing the look on her friend’s face. “Besides—I want to be here for all of Kara and Lena’s drama.”

Kara stiffened at that and her face turned a little red again. 

“I expect full details tomorrow.” Lucy called as she slipped her arm through James’s and waved goodbye. 

“Yeah, okay.” Kara sighed. She bent her knees slightly, trying to ignore the slight chafing feeling of the fast drying stain of alcohol against her skin. 

“Oh God—” Winn whispered. 

“What?” Kara turned. 

Winn had just turned his phone back on for the first time in several hours and was struggling to hold onto it as it started to buzz incessantly. 

“It’s—It’s Vasquez. She’s blowing up my newsfeed.” Winn complained. 

“How come?” Kara asked, curious. 

“I don’t know—I guess she’s mad that I didn’t come in to help her install that new software that came in…” Winn muttered, his eyebrows inching together. 

“Oh please.” Alex snorted as she coolly glared down at her pager. “Be glad it’s only Vasquez on your back and not J’onn as well.” 

“J’onn.” Winn squeaked.

“Yeah, he wants to see me in his office tomorrow morning.” Alex said dryly as she slipped her borrowed pager into the inner pocket of her blazer. 

“Oh my God…” Winn’s face paled. “You don’t think he—do you think he _knows_?”

“Of course not.” Alex waved her hand. 

“How can you be so sure?” Winn demanded, looking downright terrified. 

“Because if he knew about _that_ he wouldn’t bother summoning us to his office, he’d just have some men in black come snatch us up and ship us off to some cold, dark hole somewhere and be done with it.” Alex explained. 

“Really?” Winn asked, his eyes widening. 

“Really.” Alex said, crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed her colleague up and down. “So if I were you, I would go home and work very hard to clear it of all the things that could give us away because if J’onn finds out—”

“I know, I know.” Winn sighed, deflating at the old theme. “You’ll kill me—”

“Oh no.” Alex said quietly, her eyes darkening. She took a slow, menacing step toward Winn, seeming to grow taller as she backed him up against the closest support beam. “Killing you would be a _mercy_ —and I don’t _do_ mercy when I’m angry.”

Winn gulped and scrambled back out of Alex’s grip, tripping over his own feet and nearly dropping his phone as he tried unsuccessfully to shove it in his pocket. 

“Haha, you are funny, you know that—I’m just—you know, I’ll see you tomorrow, alright. Okay, yeah, I’m just gonna go….” 

Alex watched him go, never once letting her hard expression crack. 

Kara let out an exasperated sigh once her friend was gone. 

“Do you _have_ to scare him like that every evening?”

“ _No_.” Alex shrugged, finally giving her sister a satisfied smile. “But it’s fun.” 

Kara rolled her eyes and pushed her glasses further up her nose. 

Alex brushed by her to get to the bar. She tugged her wallet from her back pocket and thumbed through a few bills. 

She hardly noticed that Mike was shaking his head as he came briskly toward her from down the bar. 

“No, no—” Mike caught the bills that Alex had tried to put down and pushed them back toward her. “It’s been taken care of, Alex.” 

“What?” Alex was incredulous. She frowned and glanced over her shoulder toward Kara who looked just as surprised. 

Alex was a stalwart believer in truth and justice—and fairness, as evinced by her recent insistence that Mrs. Helena Lord pay for the hurt she had caused her sister; and leaving the bar without paying for the drinks that she and her friends had consumed would not be _fair_.

“I told you, Alex—it’s been taken care of.” Mike said again. 

“Mike, you can’t keep buying my sister drinks left and right—” Alex started, her voice growing a little icy and earning her a few looks from the mostly inebriated patrons along the bar. 

Mike’s eyes darted furtively toward Kara and he held up his hands, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a fast moving car. 

“No, no, it wasn’t me.” He insisted. 

“Then who—”

“James.” Kara whispered, a smile warming her heart. 

“Son of a bitch.” Alex growled, stuffing her money back in her wallet. “It wasn’t his turn.” 

“That man is too chivalrous for his own good.” Kara chuckled as she waited for Alex to walk out with her. 

“If he were _really_ chivalrous he would just ask Lucy to marry him before she reports back to Star City.” Alex grumbled as she slipped into the coat Kara was holding for her. 

“Oh come on, Alex, they’ve only been dating for—”

“Four years.” Alex shot back, turning up her collar. 

“Oh, really—wow.” Kara felt her knees tremble slightly as she was overcome with a sense of inertia. She wondered fleetingly where all the time had gone. 

“Now tell me more about this ‘little fire’.” Alex called Kara’s attention back to the present as she tugged on her sister’s arm and took her to the exit doors. 

Mike watched the girls go as he swiped a clean rag thoughtfully around the rim of one of the beakers he’d just pulled from the high pressure washer—trying to get a head start on his clean-up for the evening. The bar was only meant to be open for another hour or so, but Mike was never one to chase customers out. 

There were only a few left at this point, a few older men at one of the bar, discussing the merits of a new brand of fertilizer that was being sold at the depot while the bikers hanging out at the jukebox arm wrestled and spoke to each other in grunts. 

The bowling lanes had all gone dark. And the pool tables were all empty. 

There was a figure on Mike’s right who continued to nurse a tumbler of scotch, her dark eyes on the screen above the bar even though Mike knew she really didn’t have any interest in the football game on display. 

“Why didn’t you tell them it was you?” Mike asked, genuinely curious. 

He’d been serving at this bar for over two years now, and had a feel for the area. He had heard about the Danvers girls long before he’d ever seen either of them. Alex hadn’t really started frequenting the bar until her little sister had come back into town, and even then, it was usually with a very specific friend group. And this woman was not one of them that Mike could remember. 

In fact, the raven-haired cop was fairly new to the establishment—to the town really. Mike had yet to learn her story. 

Maggie Sawyer simply shrugged and set down her glass, deciding that now that the interesting group of misfits had dispersed, there was very little left in the bar to entertain. 

“I mean, you heard the way Alex threatened Winn Schott, and everybody knows Alex Danvers is a woman of her word so the next time she turns those threats on me it’d be nice if you could, I don’t know—speak up?” Mike suggested. 

Maggie chuckled and zipped up her leather jacket.

“See you tomorrow night, Mike.” 

She had in fact heard Alex Danvers threaten the young man in the vest. 

She’d heard the gravelly timbre of her voice, had even noticed the serious flash in her deep, russet eyes. 

Maggie hadn’t meant to eavesdrop—was she sorry that she had? Absolutely _fucking_ not.

Because if there was one thing that Maggie Sawyer had learned tonight as she minded her own business and grabbed a tumbler of Scotch to warm her up before she’d intended to walk out into the chilly night air—it was that Alex Danvers, the highly trained, lethal government operative was _intense_. And _hot_.

These were important facts to note as Maggie got acquainted with her new environment. 

She was a cop who trusted first impressions—but never implicitly. Maggie’s gut instincts were very good—but so were her detective skills. 

And her first impression of Alex Danvers had been that she was a bit of a fumbling mess. A bit nosy and pretty transparent. 

But _now_?

Maggie licked her lips, tasting the last drops of alcohol there. 

_Now_ Maggie was thinking that transferring to Midvale might _not_ have been the worst decision she’d ever made. 


	30. Kara Comes Home...But Drunk This Time

Kara touched down a little further away from the house than she normally would. 

She needed an extra moment to get her heartbeat under control. 

She’d talked to Alex for over an hour in the parking lot of the bar—trying to work out how best to avoid any misunderstandings about—well, about what married people should do when those married people were not actually married and were only pretending to be because Fate had decreed Kara’s life needed _just one more twist_!

Kara had decided to play along with Alex’s game—as terrible as it was. 

But she refused to let the charade go so far as to force Lena into her bed under false pretenses. It went against every moral code in Kara’s being—well, not _every_ moral code, because she did find Lena attractive, but that was part of the problem. 

Kara found Lena attractive. _Extremely_ attractive. 

But she couldn’t think about that. _Ever_. 

Not while they were caught up in the middle of these lies and the ugliness of the Revenge.

That was what Kara was calling it. The Revenge. 

It was simple: a $600 closet to be worked off through 16 days of domestic labor—but that domestic labor could not include, under any circumstances, _romantic feelings_. 

Because this was an unequal partnership. Temporary as well as False. 

_And_ they were complete strangers. 

Which of course led Kara to the _teensy_ problem that filled her with dread; For some reason—Lena seemed to be buying into all of Kara’s awful lies. 

Namely that they were married. That this was their home. Their family. Their life. 

Which was of course crucial to the carrying out of the Revenge—but it also posed the problem of continuity. 

If Lena believed that they were in fact married—she may have certain _expectations_. And Kara needed a plausible way to get around them.

The fact that Lena had seemed worried for their marriage had puzzled Kara—as had the fact that the woman she knew as _Mrs. Lord_ had seemed perfectly at ease with the thought of being married to a woman rather than a man.

Kara had thought more than once while she worked on Lord’s yacht that Mrs. Lord was flirting with her—but part of the reason she had been so upset when James and Lucy had told her what Alex had done had to do with the fact that she deeply disliked the notion of forcing Mrs. Lorde into a relationship, even a _pretend_ relationship, that she may be uncomfortable with.

But Lena didn’t appear to be uncomfortable with it. 

Which was part of what worried Kara. 

Tricking Lena into cooking for her boys was one thing—telling her that she was their mother hadn’t seemed to bring the world crashing down around them—but getting through the rest of the routine, pretending to be wives—Kara wasn’t sure she could do it. Not in quiet moments when everyone else was away—when it was simply the two of them. 

So Kara had to avoid getting close to Lena—or being alone with her.

And this was the first night. 

The first test. 

Kara swallowed as she drew closer to the house. All of the interior lights were off, but the porch light with the soft blue bulb was glowing. 

Kara paused for a moment when she noticed the two large shapes on the porch—Krypto and Pluto. 

_What are they doing outside?_ Kara wondered.

As Kara approached, Krypto lifted her head and let out a low whine. Kara hummed and reached out her hand to run along the dog’s back. Pluto’s tail thumped and the older dog stretched lazily, opening his maw wide in a soundless yawn. 

“Hold on—sorry guys.” Kara kept one hand on Krypto’s snout as she used her free hand to open the screeching screen door as quietly as she possibly could. 

“I’ll let you in but you have to be quiet, you hear me—quiet! We don’t want to wake anybody—”

“Kara?”

Kara almost shot straight up in the air, but she managed somehow to keep both feet planted firmly on the porch as a stream of curses shot through her mind. 

Krypto let out a bark and Kara dropped to her knees to put both hands around her snout—doing her best to be gentle as she tried to quiet the beast. Kara could see Lena’s shape coming closer, materializing from absolute shadow, even without the aid of her x ray vision. 

“Oh, ah—hey Lena.” Kara called quietly as she stroked Krypto’s snout. She was keeping the screen door open with her knee and Lena came forward to pull the wooden door open more completely. 

“Where have you been?” Lena demanded. She stood with her shoulders hunched together, as if she were trying to make herself appear smaller—as if she were afraid. 

“I was with Alex.” Kara said easily, hoping that the dark would hide her blush. 

“Yes, but _where_?” Lena asked again. 

Kara’s mind was spinning. 

She had to let go of Krypto for a moment to try to stop Pluto from surging past, but the large male dog slid by her easily, snorting as he trotted past Lena and went purposefully into the house. 

Krypto let out an indignant bark and Kara grabbed her snout again.

“Shhh! Quiet girl, you’ll wake the boys.” 

“They told me.” Lena said suddenly. 

Kara’s stomach dropped and she lost her grip on Krypto—the hound snorted in triumph and darted forward, barking gaily as she thundered down the hall toward the den. 

Kara braced herself against the wooden deck and looked up at Lena. 

Lena would have appeared terrifying if she didn’t look so worn down—so _exhausted_. 

Kara swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to stand. She brushed the dust from her knees and forced herself to look Lena in the eye even though her heart was pounding loudly and without rhythm. 

“Told you what?” Kara knew she sounded breathless, but she was waiting for the explosion—for the anger and the hatred. She knew she'd deserve every bit of it.

“That you were at the bar. That you’ve been out drinking.” Lena said tiredly. 

Kara blinked twice, her lips parting in a silent ‘oh’. She tried to speak several times, but hardly any sound came out.

Lena’s green eyes narrowed by degrees the longer it took for Kara to say absolutely nothing. 

“You’re _drunk_ , aren’t you?” Lena asked darkly. 

Kara swallowed and licked her lips. “Umm—maybe just a little.”

She was lying of course. 

Even if she had stolen a sip of Alex’s beer or had an entire keg to herself, her Kryptonian biology would have metabolized the alcohol too fast for her to ever really feel the effects. It was one of the reasons Kara didn’t even bother drinking beers or wine—she didn’t really see the point. 

“Right. You should come inside and shower then—you reek of booze.” Lena sniffed. 

She turned on her heel and disappeared into shadow. 

Kara stayed on the porch for another moment, still trying to process her luck. 

If Lena had an aversion for drunkards, which Kara supported one hundred and ten percent, then it would stand to reason that Lena would want to put as much distance between them as possible while she believed Kara to be inebriated. And if Kara could keep up the act long enough—maybe she could get herself banished to the couch. 

Kara heard one of the dogs let out a short bark and a muffled shriek from Lena. 

Kara smiled as she pulled the screen door closed gently and then shut the front door behind her. She could hear the dripping of several faucets and the creaking of several uncomfortable boards. The two dogs were panting in the den, chasing rabbits or some other furry creatures deeper and deeper into dreams. And upstairs, all was quiet—the boys fast asleep.

Kara felt along the wall and then flipped off the porchlight. 

She was still growing used to the new house, to the sharp edges and corners and texture of the walls. But tonight she was a little less careful as she stumbled through the dark that was really no impairment at all. She let her feet drag over the floor and intentionally swayed a little from side to side—hoping that she was convincing.

She knocked over a lamp and fumbled out of her jacket, keeping one eye on Lena who seemed to have paused near the back of the stairs, waiting. Kara prolonged the moment of hanging up her jacket—doing her best to make as much muffled noise as possible. 

“Oh for _Heaven’s sake_!” Lena hissed and turned to disappear into the bedroom, clearly fed up.

Kara let out the breath she’d been holding and deftly set her jacket on the appropriate peg. 

Krypto whined from the den but Kara let out a soft hum to soothe her. 

She could hear the rustling of blankets and she hoped it was just one of the boys turning over in sleep, trying to get more comfortable. 

Kara rubbed absentmindedly at her arms and crossed the hallway reluctantly. She just couldn’t seem to shake that sense of dread that had been gnawing away at her stomach. 

This time she decided against knocking and instead took a quick breath before pushing into her own bedroom. She kept her head down as she made a beeline for her dresser—but it didn’t help much. 

She could sense Lena watching her from the bed. 

Kara forgot that she was supposed to be playing drunk for a moment and started grabbing her necessities quickly—her boxers and sleeping tank, a towel and a hair scrunchy. 

Kara’s shoulders tensed and she froze when she heard Lena huff exasperatedly from the bed. 

“You may as well turn on the light—it’s not like I can sleep when you’re making all that _racket_.” Lena said coldly. 

“No, it’s alright, I’m sorry Lena—I’m done, I promise, I’m going…” Kara stuttered. She was trying to slur her words together, but she spoke in too much of a rush for that effect. 

“You’re going away _again_?” Lena demanded, sitting up with a bit of a gasp.

“I—Yeah, I’m going to take a shower.” Kara drawled, inching back toward the door. 

“Kara, it’s after two in the morning.” Lena said. 

The room was dark. Lena had drawn all of the shades and there was not even the softness of moonlight streaming in to illuminate the scene. Even so, Kara could see well enough that Lena’s bottom lip trembled. It gave her pause and she actually did stumble without intention—her heel caught on the edge of a carelessly placed shoe and she fell backward, landing flat on her butt. 

“Umph!” 

“Kara?!” Lena sounded concerned as she started to toss away the blankets to go to Kara’s side. 

“No—I’m fine!” Kara croaked holding up a hand. She was suddenly very aware of the scent of perfume in the air—a sweeter smell than Kara’s usual deodorants or body wash. It was familiar, a floral scent—Lena’s plumerias. Lena's perfume and the flash of Lena’s bright green eyes in the dark was not helping Kara hold onto her resolve to vacate the room as quickly as possible. 

“Kara, don’t be ridiculous—just come to bed.” Lena chided, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kara’s nostrils flared. 

“I am—I mean, I will, I just—”

“Just what?” Lena demanded sharply, growing more than a little impatient with the _infamous wife_ who smelled of alcohol and sweat and was stomping around the house and refusing to give Lena a moment’s peace. 

“I—I don’t sleep in here, Lena, remember? I’ve got a—an old back injury thing and the bed’s too soft, so I always sleep on the living room couch. I just needed to grab my PJs…” Kara lied as profusely as she could. 

Lena’s eyebrows darted together. She was struggling with exhaustion and varying degrees of lingering anger and desperation, but she wasn’t quite so overtaken that she couldn’t grasp the fundamental implications of what Kara was saying. 

“An old back injury?” Lena repeated, nonplussed. 

“Yup, from—Go Karts. Long time ago.” Kara stammered. 

Lena pursed her lips as she tried not to remember how easily Kara had swept her up and away from the kitchen fire earlier that evening—she could remember the feel of those muscles around her, how sure and safe she’d felt. There had been no hesitation then, not even the slightest give as Kara had carried her away. Surely someone with a bad back wouldn’t be able to—

Lena sighed and reached up to pinch at the bridge of her nose—once again accepting that these lies and impossibilities were all part of some grander punishment—that the sum total of her life here was one deserved mess. 

It made her miserable. 

“Right. Fine. See you later.” Lena grumbled as she turned and crawled back into the much too large bed. 

“Yeah—right. Goodnight.” Kara sighed in relief. She got to her feet a little slowly, waiting to see if Lena would yell at her some more. 

“These sheets are scratchy.” Lena muttered as she curled into a tight ball and turned her back to Kara. 

“Oh, ahh—sorry.” Kara fidgeted with her glasses. “I can—ah, it’ll get better.” 

Kara knew her words made absolutely no sense in this context, but she was flustered.

“No it won’t.” Lena sniffled. 

“Hey, Lena—” Kara found herself stepping tentatively closer, her heart twisting painfully. “Yes it will, I promise.” 

Lena sighed and flopped back onto her back so she could glare up at the face of her _infamous wife_. 

“You are _drunk_.: Lena growled, "And when you are drunk you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep when sober.” 

Kara scoffed. “What—I can totally keep that promise. It’s easy.” 

“Yes…the bar has been set rather low hasn’t it.” Lena said colorlessly.

Kara rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. This experience was giving her a definite sense of whiplash. One moment Lena seemed—vulnerable and helpless, someone Kara had the fierce desire to protect, and the next—she was back to her old tricks. The cutting remarks. The dry sense of humor. The dramatics. It was all very confusing. 

“Goodnight, Lena. I’ll—see you tomorrow.” Kara said as she turned to go. 

The blankets rustled, but when Kara turned to look over her shoulder she realized it was just Lena curling up again, turning onto her side so she wouldn’t have to watch Kara go. 

Kara sighed again and pushed out of the room. 

She used her super speed to quickly change into her pajamas and then carefully floated into the den, afraid that walking may have her stepping on one too many creaky boards. 

The dogs lifted their heads but seemed in no hurry to relinquish their lordship over the couch. 

Kara sighed and patted Krypto's head as she unfurled the towel she’d grabbed. She felt foolish—but as Lena had said, it was rather early in the morning and Kara was exhausted. She didn’t have the strength left to go scrounging through the boxes piled up in the garage on the hunt for a proper blanket. And she was too tired to sneak upstairs to steal one from the boys—the thought of trying to coerce one from Lena who had rolled herself up in a considerable cocoon only made Kara grimace. 

So Kara simply spread out her towel on the living room floor and laid back. 

As uncomfortable as it was, Kara fell asleep almost instantly. Perhaps it was a testament to the physical and emotional exhaustion she’d suffered. Or perhaps it was simply that under the roof that sometimes leaked, Kara felt at home, especially with those four steady heartbeats going strong upstairs in the nursery—and even with the addition of the wild, unfamiliar heartbeat emanating from Kara’s bedroom. 

It was all very soothing. And relaxing. 

Kara fell into a sleep so deep that she didn’t even dream.


	31. Day 1: An Early Start

Lena didn’t want to wake up. 

Not because she was having a particularly lovely dream or anything like that—she had, in fact, tossed and turned all night long in the throes of a terrible nightmare involving oysters and men in long white doctor’s coats and Naval distinctions barking orders and daily drug regimens at her incessantly.

No—Lena didn’t want to wake up because she knew her reality wasn’t much better than the horrid dream she’d been having. 

And yet—Lena was brought to consciousness by degrees.

An insistent thumping forcing her to throw off her sleepy haze and take notice of her surroundings once again. 

Lena sat up quickly, her nose crinkling as she gazed around at the mess. 

She was lying in the middle of a bed that had been made without any thought to aesthetic. The sheets were mismatched and the blankets were all tangled. There were lightly used articles of clothing all over the floor—those boxes seemed to have doubled in number in the night and the sunflowers on the windowsill had toppled to the floor. 

Lena groaned and flopped back against the pillows, cringing when she once again saw the ominous looking stain darkening the textured plaster of the ceiling. 

Another metallic crash resounded through the house and Lena threw the blankets back, anger waking her up. 

Lena stomped across the room, careful to avoid shoes and socks and sharp looking implements—and threw open the door. 

Lena rubbed at her eyes and made her way around the stairwell to the kitchen. 

It looked just as wrecked as it had the night before—browning globs of half-mashed potato all over the floor and fridge, foam hardening to the stove and the pot with the half-burnt but not cooked chicken tossed unceremoniously into the kitchen sink…Lena felt her stomach turn just at the thought of all the bacteria that must be breeding on those counters. 

Lena heard humming and glanced up to see that Kara was standing over the table, tending to something Lena couldn’t see. 

The blonde was fully dressed, her wet hair pulled back in a messy bun and her flannel left untucked from her cutoffs—Lena couldn’t help but stare at the exposed calves—at the way they curved and bulged. All in all she looked far too comfortable and far too cheery so early in the morning. Lena felt herself frowning and she crossed her arms over her chest, determined to keep her heart from pounding its way out of her chest. 

“What on earth are you doing?” Lena demanded by way of announcing herself. 

Kara jumped a little and spun around, her blue eyes going wide. 

“Lena! Gosh—Good morning! I—I didn’t mean to wake you!” 

Lena narrowed her eyes and glanced up over Kara’s shoulder to the clock on the wall. 

“ _Please_ tell me that this living nightmare doesn’t begin at the crack of dawn _every morning_.” Lena begged as she eyed the piece of bread in Kara’s hand. 

Kara chuckled and sucked at a bit of peanut butter on her finger.

Lena’s nostrils flared. 

“No, not every morning, but on school days I have to get the boys’ lunches ready before the bus gets here.” Kara said lightly as she turned back to the food she’d assembled on the table—a loaf of bread, peanut butter and jelly, an assortment of candies and cookies, a few yogurt packets, string cheese, a bottle of waffle syrup, Powerade, juice boxes, etc. 

Lena stepped up closer, her nose crinkling again at the sight. 

“ _This_ is what you’re sending them with?”

“Yeah.” Kara shrugged as she splattered a thick layer of grape jelly over the already generous glob of peanut butter on the bread in her hand. 

“How is _this_ nutritious?” Lena demanded, gesturing with disdain toward the packages of skittles and starbursts and twizzlers and gummy worms and chocolate kisses and all other sugary confections that were covering over half of the table. 

“I can see you’re still grumpy—why don’t you go back to bed? I’ve got this.” Kara said through the side of her mouth as she squished together two pieces of oozing bread. 

“I am not _grumpy_ , I’m concerned for our children’s health!” Lena insisted.

“Well…that’s fine, but you don’t _have_ to worry about it.” Kara muttered as she stuffed the sandwich into a Ziploc bag and struggled with sealing it.

“Of course I do—you’re giving them enough sugar to send them flying off the walls.” Lena shot back as she snatched the Ziploc from Kara and sealed it deftly. 

Kara froze, her eyes widening as her cheeks tinged pink.

“What? Flying—wha—like Superman, that’s just—wow, that is just crazy.” Kara stammered. 

Kara was saved when she heard the crunching of gravel and the long call of a familiar car horn. 

“That’s Alex. I have to go.” Kara said quickly, her eyes darting to the window. 

“What?! But what about the—” Lena gestured toward the mess on the table, but somehow Kara had already crossed the hall and was desperately raking fingers through her hair and trying to tuck in her shirt and tug on her shoes all at the same time—it was an odd little dance and Lena couldn’t help staring—it was strangely adorable and incredibly endearing and she was not in the mood to be endeared this morning. 

“Don’t worry—you’ve still got forty minutes before the bus arrives, and I’m sure Alex will help you.” Kara grunted as she flopped back into one of the recliners, struggling with her work boots. “Won’t you Alex?”

Lena almost jumped as the screen door banged open—she had definitely _not_ been staring at the shapely curve of Kara’s breasts through the dip of her thin cotton undershirt as she bent over her boots. 

Lena felt her spine stiffen and her lips curled as Alex Danvers stepped across the threshold. 

“Won’t I what?” Alex demanded, her brown eyes sweeping over the house critically, though her eyes lit up a little gleefully when she noted the state of the stove and the horror-stricken Lena standing frozen in the kitchen.

“Help the boys get ready for school.” Kara explained as she reached out a hand and made grabby motions while she worked on pulling her hair back into a more deliberate bun with the other hand. 

Alex rolled her eyes and crossed the hall to hand her sister the strawberry doughnut covered in sprinkles that she’d already tugged from the box. 

Kara grinned and stuffed the doughnut in her mouth as she hopped up to her feet, deftly yanking her jean cutoffs up over her hips more securely—causing Lena to feel her knees go a little weak. 

“Oh yes—I’d _love_ to help.” Alex said dryly, her eyes on Lena.

“Great—wish me luck.” Kara muttered as she pressed a quick kiss to her sister’s cheek and headed for the door. 

“Luck for what?” Lena asked, though she doubted Kara heard her. 

“New Tools are in the trunk.” Alex said smoothly as she came deeper into the house, hefting the box of donuts a little higher when the dogs perked up and came galloping toward her. 

Kara froze, one hand on the door handle. She spun around, her mouth agape. 

Alex used her foot to knock a stack of magazines from the coffee table so she could make room to set down her doughnuts. She caught Kara’s eye and smiled. 

“Good luck.” Alex said with a shrug. 

Kara’s eyes were shining and she let out a laugh as she darted across the room to lift Alex up in a proper hug. 

“You’re the best, you know that?” Kara asked gleefully. 

“Yeah, yeah—put me down.” Alex rolled her eyes as she gave in and hugged her sister back.

There was a loud thump from up above and several muffled curses. 

“You’d better go or you’ll be late.” Alex said sagely. 

Kara nodded and released her sister. 

“You’re right—gosh, Alex, you’re awesome and I love you, you know that?” 

“It doesn’t hurt to be reminded.” Alex said with a shrug as she flicked open the doughnut box and observed the assortment. 

Kara just chuckled and lifted her fingers to her lips to whistle at the dogs who were eyeing Alex’s food with clear envy. 

The beasts immediately lept to Kara’s side and bolted through the door she held open. 

“Boys! You’ve got thirty minutes!” Kara called loudly up toward the ceiling. 

There were several immediate protests and sleepy whines raining down from above. 

Kara shook her head fondly and waved one final time broadly enough to somehow include both her sister and Lena who remained frozen and confused in the kitchen. “Bye! Love you!” 

And with that she was gone.

“Where is she going _now_?” Lena asked, as she watched Kara’s form jog by the front facing windows. 

“Work.” Alex grunted.

Lena rolled her eyes and hugged herself. 

“Right. Because _somebody_ ’s got to keep this family in the lap of luxury.” She muttered low enough that Alex couldn’t hear. 

Alex had wandered into the living room and frowned down at the blue towel that was lying inconspicuously on the floor. “What’s this doing here?”

“I don’t know.” Lena confessed, tossing her hands up a little helplessly. “It’s probably where she slept last night.” 

Alex paused, and licked the chocolate frosting from her finger before glancing up once again at Lena.

“She slept on the floor?” 

Lena sighed and hugged herself tighter as she turned stiffly to the food spread out all over the table. She didn’t like the look Alex was giving her—didn’t quite understand it. 

“I don’t _know_ , it’s all very strange— _she’s_ very strange.” Lena complained as she started tossing random things into the two lunchboxes sitting open before her. 

“What do you mean, _strange_?” Alex demanded sharply, her eyes traveling upward when she heard the start of a quarrel emanating from the boys’ room.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Lena snapped, glaring across the table toward Alex. “Is it customary for my wife to stumble home at _two in the morning_ completely _inebriated_ and then sleep in the _middle of the living room floor_ claiming that our bed is _too soft_?!”

“No, no—you’re right.” Alex said with a false tint of concern to her tone. “That doesn’t sound like Kara.” 

“What? Really?” Lena asked, relief flooding through her veins. 

“Well, I mean most of it sounds just like Kara—coming home drunk in the wee hours of the morning, yeah, that’s a common occurrence.” Alex said with a cruel glint in her eye as she watched Lena’s shoulders deflate. “But sleeping apart—now that worries me.” 

“What? Why?” Lena asked, her throat constricting. 

Alex shrugged and pretended to study the drawings Julien had created in red and black marker all over the front of the old Catco magazines. 

“Oh, you know—you two have always had a very healthy sexual relationship.” Alex said dryly as she turned a page to study the sharks her nephew had drawn chomping on the head of the model wearing high waisted jeans.

“I beg your pardon?!” Lena squeaked. The package of skittles she had been struggling to open burst and the candies went flying in all directions, merely adding to the mess. 

“Oh _sorry_ —right. You _don’t remember_.” Alex feigned an epiphany and set the magazine down. She stuck her hands in her pockets and her brown eyes glittered as she approached Lena slowly. “You and Kara usually can’t keep your hands off each other, I mean—you jumped her bones the first night you met.” 

Lena’s mouth dropped open. “ _What_?! We did it on the first date?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a _date_ really. See—you just kinda disappeared together into the bathroom of that doughnut place—” Alex drawled. 

“I’m—I’m a _slut_?” Lena whispered, the realization making her feel a little faint. 

Alex simply hummed and focused on collecting all of the green skittles within reach. 

“I was a short…fat…slut.” Lena repeated to herself, trying to hammer the words into her psyche, gather a sense of who she had been. And yet the words simply seemed to bounce off of the incredibly thick walls around every one of her memories—none of them stuck. 

She was still an incomplete template—the shadow of a person she did not know and could not recall.

Alex glanced up.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Lena sighed and sprinkled a few skittles into one of the lunchboxes absentmindedly—they pinged along the metallic bottom and the sound somehow seemed soothing. Lena added a few more. 

“What on Earth is taking them so long? If they don’t hurry they’re gonna miss the bus.” Alex fumed as she stomped across the kitchen to grab the banister. 

“Hey, guys! Let’s show a little hustle! Come on!” Alex shouted.

There were immediate squeals of excitement upstairs and several shouts of, “Aunt Alex!”

Lena winced as the shouts grated against her already thin nerves.

“Must you shout like that?” Lena demanded, rubbing at her temples. “So _what_ if they miss the bus?” 

“I mean—I guess it’s not all _that_ important.” Alex said slowly as she turned and leaned against the stairwell. She eyed Lena up and down, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips. 

“But if they don’t go to school—they’ll just have to stay here with you all day.”

Lena’s face paled as the weight of the red-head’s words sank down onto her shoulders. 

She swallowed around the dryness in her throat and tossed her head back. 

“Boys! Hurry up! For the love of _all that is good in this world_ , Please just _go_!”


	32. Red vs. Blue (and Purple)

Miguel and Colm raced each other down the stairs, one wearing a blue dress shirt and the other a Lakers jersey. 

“Hey, Aunt Alex!” Miguel called as he jumped the last few steps and rolled. Colm was more careful, but didn’t slow down as he raced past his brother to be the first to grab a lunchbox from the table. 

“Thanks, Mom!” Colm gasped breathlessly as he tried to dance sideways around his older brother. 

“No way—you know the red one is mine!” Miguel thundered, snatching at the lunchbox that Colm clutched close to his chest.

“I grabbed it first!” Colm insisted, his dark eyes burning. 

“Guys, the bus is here.” Alex interjected, just as the nose of the yellow bus became visible on the tract running by the house. 

“Here.” Lena said as she took up the other lunchbox on the table and held it out with two fingers—hoping there would be no skin on skin contact with this manner of transfer. 

“I don’t want that one.” Miguel insisted, his eyes blazing. “ _He_ took mine!”

Lena glanced down at the lunchboxes—they were perfectly identical in proportion and design. There was a simple golden ‘S’ on the front—a hero's symbol. For Superman or something. The only difference that Lena could see between the two boxes was the color of the metal surrounding the ‘S’—one box was blue and the other red. 

“Guys.” Alex snapped as the bus out on the road honked its horn. “We don’t have time to argue—grab a doughnut and hit the road!” 

“Haha! Bye Aunt Alex! Bye Mother!” Colm crowed triumphantly as he snatched up a chocolate doughnut from the box on the coffee table and darted out the door. Lena winced as the screen door slammed. 

“ _Son of a bitch_!” Miguel cursed as he snatched the other lunchbox from Lena’s hands, his face red with anger. 

Lena recoiled and clutched her hands over her heart, dread pounding through her veins. 

“Hey.” Alex said in warning. 

Miguel glanced up, his eyes still smoldering. Miguel’s young face was starting to sharpen now that he had crossed that monumental threshold—a decade of life. His jawline was starting to square out and even though his shaggy hair fell a little into his eyes, there was new wisdom there, new depths. Still, he seemed more child than ever under Alex’s stern stare. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Alex demanded, quirking an eyebrow. 

The bus honked again, clearly impatient to be away. 

Miguel clenched his jaw and grumbled, but turned slowly back toward Lena. 

“Thanks, _Mother_ —you’re doing a great job.” Miguel said darkly. 

Lena blinked. 

She had been expecting an apology—some sort of remorse for the inappropriate language, but it seemed her children had no moral compasses whatsoever. 

“There you go—now hurry up.” Alex said, holding out Miguel’s backpack. 

Miguel sighed and slipped the straps over his shoulders before stomping over to grab a handful of donuts. 

“Thanks, Aunt Alex.” Miguel growled. 

Alex caught Lena’s eye and jerked her head toward the boy now heading for the door.

Lena swallowed and tangled her fingers together. 

“Right—ahh, Have a great day at school…sweetheart!” Lena called haltingly. 

Miguel paused with his hand on the door. He had one of the glazed donuts in his mouth, but he removed it so he could swivel to look back at Lena and Alex. 

“It’s Miguel.” He said evenly. 

“Oh, right, I knew that.” Lena nodded, nervous as the bus honked several times. 

For a moment, no one moved, and Lena got the distinct impression that the boy was waiting for her to say something more. Lena could hear several young voices calling from the bus—hollering for Miguel to hurry up. 

“I hope you have a wonderful day, Miguel.” Lena said, her eyes darting to Alex. “Keep your head up.” 

Miguel seemed to contemplate this for a second. 

The bus honked once more and Alex stomped over to one of the windows to wave inappropriate hand gestures at the driver.

Miguel shrugged finally, and rolled his shoulders. “Whatever.” 

Then he stuffed his doughnut back in his mouth and sprinted out the door, letting the screen door slam loudly behind him. 

Lena didn’t move for several seconds. 

She watched the boy run across the yard to the bus—somehow only thinking to breathe after the bus pulled away, churning up a large dust cloud—the two giant hounds chasing after it and braying like mad.

“Miguel.” Lena repeated, trying harder to commit it to memory. “Miguel. Migu-elll. Miii-guel. Miguel.” 

Lena let out a sigh and smoothed down the shirt she’d worn to bed. She was glad _that_ was over, now she could go back to bed and—

Lena’s head snapped up and her eyes widened. 

“Wait! That was only two!” Lena stammered.

Alex was standing on the couch, trying to adjust the housing of the blinds over the window. She turned to look over her shoulder and then glanced up. 

“Boys! You have exactly _thirty seconds_ to get down here or the spaceship leaves without you!” Alex hollered. 

Lena wasn’t sure why—but even more dread rose up in her chest when she heard the patter of the littlest feet in the house as opposed to the sound of the older boys on the stairs. She found herself backing away from the table, stepping into the gunk all over the floor as she backed into the fridge.

“I’m ready! I’m ready!” Walter squealed as he came skipping down the stairs. 

“I can’t find my turtle!” Julien shrieked from somewhere up above. 

“Aunt Alex! Aunt Alex! I’m wearing purple today!” Walter exclaimed as he ran into the den, puffing out his chest to show off his purple shirt. 

“Wow, that is _super_ cool.” Alex grunted as she shoved the metal bar into place and then tested the blinds—tugging them all the way up and then releasing them. Several of the fronds were broken and she cursed under her breath.

“I think Julien still has chicken pox.” Walter said confidentially as he poked at the donuts in the box. 

“Right.” Alex grunted as she hopped down from the couch. 

“Julien! Get down here, we’re late!” Alex shouted, reaching down to hand Walter his small bag of doughnut holes. The child grinned and wrapped an arm around Alex’s leg in the best imitation of a one-armed hug he could manage. 

“But I can’t find my turtle!” An enraged voice whined. 

“Leave him, we have to go!” Alex argued, glancing at her wrist and then cursing because she still didn’t have a replacement watch. 

“What if he ran away?!” Julien screamed, appearing on the landing. He was only half dressed and there were clear tear tracks on his cheeks. 

Lena had the urge to point out that turtles _can’t_ run, but she kept her mouth shut and held her breath—she was waiting for the moment when she’d find herself alone—when all of this crazy morning chaos would fizzle out.

“We can look for him later, but right now we need to go.” Alex explained, impatience making her cheeks tinge a soft pink. 

“But I need to find him now!” Julien lamented.

“Julien, I’m sure he’s fine.” Alex growled, stomping closer to the stairs. 

Walter sank down to the floor and sat with his sack of donuts in his lap, eating them one at a time as he watched his twin and aunt yell at each other. 

“No man left behind!” Julien screamed as he turned and darted back into the shadows of the upstairs nursery.

“Julien! Stop fooling around! Get down here! _Dammit_ , Julien, we don’t have time for this!” Alex hissed as she stomped up the stairs. 

Lena’s heart was pounding heavily and she took a few tentative steps forward to gaze up curiously toward the landing—all she could hear were angry footsteps and disgruntled shrieks as Alex chased down her spritely nephew. 

“Do you want one, Mother?” Walter asked, proffering a rather smooshed donut. 

Lena glanced at him and shook her head. 

“No thank you.”

Lena flinched when something heavy crashed upstairs—she was sure she heard something break.

“Stop squirming!” Alex appeared at the top of the stairs, out of breath and looking downright murderous as she struggled to drag Julien down to the ground floor. 

“No! I don’t want to go! I’ve got to find Speedy! I don’t want to go!” Julien screamed as loud as his little lungs would allow. 

“Your turtle is _fine_.” Alex snapped as she dragged the protesting child into the living room. “He’s indestructible—now sit down and eat that while I tie your shoes.” 

Alex shoved a frosted doughnut into her nephews gaping mouth and squatted before him, working quickly to tie one shoe and then the other. 

Julien munched in brooding silence on his doughnut, every angry breath he took through his nose sent the powder up into his face—catching along his eyelashes and giving him splotches of white along his cheeks and on the tip of his nose. Eventually the child’s eyes wandered to Lena and his unbridled anger seemed to return tenfold.

“Why is _she_ still here?!” Julien demanded, his dark blue eyes turning almost black. 

“Alright boys, I think we’re ready.” Alex said quickly, pushing herself up to her feet. “Say goodbye to your mother and let’s go.”

Walter leapt up immediately, eager to please and ran into the kitchen to wrap his arms around Lena’s legs. 

Lena stiffened immediately in shock, a half gasp escaping her lips. 

“Bye Mother! See you later!” Walter grinned as he turned back around and tossed his empty doughnut bag into the overflowing trashcan on his way back to the living room.

Alex looked equally shocked as her young nephew casually walked down the hallway and reached up to pull open the front door. 

“But what about my turtle?!” Julien complained, drawing the attention back to himself. 

Alex pinched at the bridge of her nose. 

“I told you—we’ll look for him later. Now go wait for me in the car.” 

“But I hate school!” Julien whined. 

“Would you rather stay here with your _Mother_?!” Alex demanded, tossing a hand angrily in Lena’s direction. 

The child’s blue eyes widened in horror and he immediately shot to his feet. 

“Noooooooo!” Julien let out a piercing shriek as he ran from the house. 

Alex could still hear him as she adjusted her blazer and tugged the carkeys from her pocket.

“You handled that well.” Lena said dryly, still holding herself tightly. 

Alex’s eyes slid slowly over to Lena and her lips twitched. 

“Look, Lena—I know we got off to a pretty lousy start…”

“Therein lies the understatement of the century.” Lena shot back with a huff. 

Alex clenched her fist, but then counted silently to five and released the tension with a soft sigh. 

“I know you don’t remember—you know, because you lost your memory and everything, but you and I are actually pretty good pals.” Alex said as she inched closer. 

“Right. Because we both love Kara? Please. Of all the things you have told me since I came home, _that_ is the most absurd.” Lena snapped, keeping her green eyes narrowed and her guard up. 

“Why’s that?” Alex asked, feigning surprise. 

“Because you take a particular delight in tormenting me.” Lena answered indignantly. 

Alex did her best not to snort—but she couldn’t help the gleam that shone in her eyes. Because Lena wasn’t wrong—Alex _did_ delight in tormenting her. 

“Aw, come on Lena, that’s not true.” Alex soothed, hooking an arm around Lena’s neck to tug her into her side a little forcefully. “All I want to do is help. See look—I stayed up all night last night trying to think of a way to help you remember faster and so I made this for you.” 

Alex pushed a clipboard into Lena’s hands, grinning as she watched Lena’s expressions change. 

“What is it?” Lena demanded, glancing up in confusion. 

“Well, the doctors said you needed to get back into your daily routine—so I wrote it all down for you. All of the chores that you do every day.” Alex explained. 

Lena’s eyes narrowed and she frowned as she flipped through the pages—there were several. Each containing a long list of activities and little boxes off to the side—a checklist. 

“There—There cannot possibly be enough hours in the day to complete these— _vile tasks_.” Lena stammered as she flipped to page seven. 

“Hey, you know what they say—being a wife and mother is the hardest job there is.” Alex shrugged as she turned to go.

“Alex wait—what am I supposed to—” Lena glanced up when she heard the screen door slam. But Alex was gone.

She was finally alone—but there would be no relaxing. 

Lena had a full day’s worth of chores ahead of her. 

Actually, to her eye it looked as if she had a _year’s worth_ of chores ahead of her. 

She sighed and turned back to her messy kitchen. The doctors had said that getting back into her routine might trigger memories--and she would give anything to get rid of that odd fuzzy feeling in the back of her mind. Her mind felt so terribly--empty. And she herself felt so useless--so _lost_. 

After a moment of just listening to the house creak and groan, Lena went to the fridge and used the heel of her hand to scrape away a bit of the potato mush that had caked to the door. She pinned up the first page from her long chore list with a few of the mismatched magnets. 

“Right—” Lena muttered, taking a deep breath as she squinted at the neat scrawl. “Let’s get started.” 


	33. Day 1: Feeding the Beasts

The very first task on the list said something about feeding the beasts.

Lena was prepared to accept that another word for ‘beasts’ could be ‘children’ and therefore she could skip this first step seeing as Alex had arrived with a boxful of sugar with which to ward off the wrath of said demons—but then she remembered that aside from the four demons who lorded over the Danvers household, there were also two very large dog-beast creatures who tracked mud all over the floors and left their fur all over _everything_. 

Lena swallowed and chanced a peek through one of the windows—searching for the giant animals. 

One was lounging on the front porch, but the other was nowhere to be seen. 

Lena could only assume that it was off stalking some poor woodland creature or digging up some unwanted skeletons somewhere on the property. 

Lena frowned and glanced around the kitchen—which was still a complete and utter mess. She had no idea where one was likely to store dogfood—let alone what such a delectable commodity would look like if she were even to eventually find it. 

It was then that Lena remembered the chicken—the raw chicken that had been half burnt and then covered in foam from the fire extinguisher. 

Chicken was _meat_. Surely the dogs couldn’t be too picky—they’d been eating rice and wontons up off the floor, for God’s sake. 

Lena rolled up the sleeves of the sweatshirt she was wearing and approached the sink. 

The smell was not a pleasant one, so getting rid of the chicken would actually be a good thing on more than one front. Still—Lena hesitated as she eyed the blackened mess. 

She dropped down to look under the sink for a dish towel or something she could use to protect her hands and was relieved beyond belief to find an unopened packet of yellow rubber gloves. She tugged them on quickly and then grabbed the chicken by one of its legs. 

“Alright…” Lena muttered as she puffed out her cheeks and yanked the chicken free from the pot. She held it at arm’s length and stalked to the door, doing her best not to look at it. 

The dog on the porch jumped up excitedly when she appeared, though it seemed more interested in Lena herself than the dead thing in her hand. 

“Yes, Rover, down—please stay down—don’t touch me.” Lena begged as she slipped out onto the porch. “No, no—down—away—stay away you monsters!” 

The other dog appeared across the yard, head up and eyes bright. Lena cringed, somehow knowing that it was going to run at her. 

“Here, take it! Take it!” Lena shrieked as she threw the chicken as far away as she could. 

Both hounds bellowed and chased after it. 

Lena scrambled back up the steps and darted inside, slamming the wooden door closed behind her as well. 

“There. Be grateful.” Lena muttered as she removed her gloves and reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. 

Lena crossed the house again to check her list once more. 

The second task said simply, ‘Take out the Trash’.

Lena read it twice and then turned slowly, her eyes scanning for the overflowing trashcan she was sure she had passed more than once today. 

“There you are.” Lena grinned as she darted across the room to the trashcan. She removed the lid and had to turn away from the revolting smell. The takeout containers at the top were clearly hiding something terrible beneath—probably something dead and decaying.

Lena unhooked the bag and set about tying the top—hoping to contain the smell. 

Once that was done, she was faced with the dilemma of removing the large bag from the rounded bin. Lena clucked her tongue and tested the weight. It seemed far too heavy for her to lift on her own. Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, to the bare beams. Lena turned slowly and glanced around at the wreck of a kitchen. 

“Right.” Lena whispered, her forehead furrowing. 

Lena padded across the kitchen and the hall to peer out the windows. She moved from one to the other until she lit upon the one that revealed what she had only glanced once before—the garden hose. It was coiled up outside, near a hydrant a few yards away from the front door. 

Lena’s eyes darted left and right, but she couldn’t see hide nor hair of either dog. 

She hoped that meant they had lumbered off somewhere else. 

Lena took a deep breath and then went to the front door. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous—all she had to do was cross the few yards, get the hose and run back inside before the hounds from hell had the opportunity to ambush her. 

Lena threw the door open but shrieked when she saw that both dogs were sitting directly outside the screen door with their heads cocked to one side. She slammed the front door closed again and took a moment to try to catch her breath. 

She _needed_ the hose. If she had any hope of getting rid of the mashed gunk caked to the floor and refrigerator—she was going to have to hose it down. All of it. 

But she didn’t want to lose an arm or a leg in the process. 

Lena leaned against the door and pushed her ear to the wood—she knew it was essentially ridiculous, but she wasn’t surprised in the slightest that she could hear the two beasts panting away on the other side. 

“Now listen—I need to come outside for a minute, but that does not give you license to attack me—is that understood?” Lena called loudly. 

One of the animals snorted and whined. 

“I gave you the chicken—I’m not quite sure what else you want from me.” Lena said. 

She turned her back to the door and tossed her head back in disgust at herself. She didn’t understand when it had come to this—when she’d fallen to conversing with dumb creatures who were quite literally incapable of responding in any conceivable way. 

“Essentially, I’m talking to myself.” Lena realized, closing her eyes with a groan. 

There was another whine from beyond the door and Lena sighed as she turned and gripped the door handle firmly. 

“Alright—I’m coming out now—but only for a minute and I’d appreciate it if you stayed back.” Lena warned.

She tentatively pulled the wooden door open and then stared glumly out at the dogs who barked and jumped up on their hind legs, clearly eager for her to cross the final divide. 

“Let’s calm down please.” Lena snapped, a new headache coming on. 

One of the dogs dropped down to all fours. The other remained leaning up against the screen door, but at least it cocked its head to one side as if to visually confirm that Lena had gotten its attention. 

“I’m coming out on three, alright? And I expect you to stand clear—understood? Okay, one…two…three.” Lena cringed as she pushed the screen door open and made a beeline for the front steps. 

Both dogs immediately perked up and barked as they pursued her, their claws clattering along the wooden porch. 

“No, no—stay away!” Lena shrieked. 

She stumbled on the bottom step and hit the dirt. 

Lena curled into a tight ball as the animals fell upon her. 

Both Pluto and Krypto sniffed her thoroughly and nudged her as they whined, Krypto even licked her.

Lena simply closed her eyes and prayed it would be over soon.


	34. Pre-School Tantrums

Alex found herself cursing silently as she drove the boys to Pre-school. It seemed today was ‘move-at-an-incredibly-annoying-and-stupidly-slow-pace’ day. The drop off zone was often congested, but this morning it was simply ridiculous. 

It also didn’t help that there appeared to have been some sort of collision just across the road, with several police vehicles dotting the shoulder. To Alex’s eye it looked to be little more than a fender, bender—but there were at least four police vehicles on the scene—further slowing down the already slow line of waiting cars. 

The boys in the backseat were playing their favorite game of I Spy the Alien—in which they pretended every squirrel and passerby with glasses was an alien, and they had to make a show of pointing and shouting and waving whenever they passed one. There didn't seem to be any end goal or point really to the game, they just liked exercising their imaginations while they drove down the familiar, never changing streets of Midvale. 

And today was one of those days in which Alex wished that there actually was an alien invasion happening so she could have an excuse to floor it to the front of the line and get the hell on with her day. But the skies were clear. And everyone seemed to have agreed to move at a sluggish pace, just to torment her.

Alex’s pager buzzed again in her blazer pocket and she groaned as she collapsed over her steering wheel—accidentally banging her forehead against the car horn. 

Alex immediately sat up, flustered. 

“No, no—sorry!” Alex called helplessly to the angry heads that were now leaning out of car windows to glare at her. 

“Wow—everybody’s really cranky today, Aunt Alex.” Walter observed from his carseat. 

“Yup—lots of people waking up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Alex murmured as she glared at her side mirror. Alex couldn’t really read lips—but even she could tell that the words coming out of the driver’s mouth in the car behind her were not child-friendly. 

“Did Mom _really_ sleep on the floor last night?” Walter asked. He had grown tired of watching the sidewalk and playground to his right while they idled, so he turned his head to watch his brother remove his shoes. 

“Seems like it…” Alex growled lowly as she watched the crosswalk helper making her way down the line of cars—Alex had a pretty good idea where the kind-hearted woman was headed. 

“This is taking forever!” Julien complained, throwing both of his shoes down in disgust. “Let’s just go home!” 

“Julien Diego Danvers, you put your shoes back on _right now_.” Alex growled.

“I don’t wanna!” Julien shot back. 

“I mean it, Jules. I’m gonna count to five and if your shoes are not back on your feet when I get to five, I will send you home to Lena—”

“No!” Julien screamed. 

“One.” Alex began, nonplussed.

“I want to go with you!” Julien shouted.

“Two.” Alex gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, her eyes narrowing. 

“I hate school! I don’t wanna go!” Julien protested. 

“Three.” 

“You can’t make me go!” Julien shrieked.

“Four.”

“You’re being mean!” 

“Here Jules, you can put on my shoes.” Walter offered, reaching across the divide to offer his shoes to his brother. 

Alex spun around at that, her nerves shredded. 

“No! Walter, you keep your shoes on! Julien, stop acting like a baby—school is awesome and you’re gonna have lots of fun!” Alex snarled vehemently as she stretched awkwardly to try to retrieve the missing shoes.

“No it’s not!” Julien wailed, kicking his feet. 

“Ow!” Alex dropped the shoes again when she was assaulted from above. She cursed and used one arm to try to shield the back of her head as she reached again for the shoes. “Julien, cut that out or so help me—"

“Is everything alright here?” The raspy voice of the crosswalk helper interrupted. 

She’d first been alerted to the situation when the first carhorn sounded and the mothers and fathers in the drop-off line all began complaining louder than usual. But then she’d noticed the precariously shaking car toward the back of the line—the Danvers woman. And she’d decided to do her due diligence and see what the problem was this time.

Alex sat bolt upright, looking more than a little disheveled—and Julien continued to wail in the seat behind her. 

“Oh yes, everything’s _fine_.” Alex said tightly. “We’re just…having a rough morning.” 

“I hate school! I hate it!” Julien howled in the back seat. 

“I see.” The crosswalk assistant said with a slight shake of her head as she took stock of the situation—Alex Danvers looking more pissed off than usual, Thing 1 and Thing 2 in the backseat, one without shoes and the other with that all too innocent grin on his face—it was a recipe for disaster. 

“Well, with that attitude, perhaps it would be best if the boys took a day off, gave the teachers a break…” The assistant suggested casually.

“Nooooo!” Julien screamed, thoughts of the woman with green eyes lurking at his home making him even more desperate. 

Alex’s face darkened immediately. 

An almost electric danger fell over the entire situation as Alex removed her keys from the ignition of her SUV with a deft twist of her wrist. 

“Oh no, no, no—These two rascals are going to school today. That is non-negotiable.” Alex growled dangerously as she shoved her door open. 

The crosswalk assistant took a startled step back.

“I was only suggesting—Miss Danvers? Miss Danvers, please—I must ask you to return to your vehicle, you can’t just—”

“Alright, Jules. Time’s up.” Alex said darkly as she yanked open the back door, making Julien scream even louder. 

“Miss Danvers please, you can’t exit your vehicle in the middle of the drop-off hour.” The crosswalk assistant stammered, horrified that the rules and etiquette of the morning procession were to be completely disregarded.

Alex ignored the woman altogether as she struggled with Julien’s carseat—it would not have been so difficult if her nephew would just hold still. 

“Walt—hop out and wait for me on the sidewalk.” Alex instructed as she used one arm to keep Julien pressed back into the seat while she tried to get to the red button at the bottom of the booster without getting her hand kicked away. 

The cars behind Alex were honking now, honking and screaming and shaking fists. The crosswalk assistant was tugging at her greying curls. 

“Miss Danvers—Miss Danvers, please.” 

“Alright, you want to play it that way, buddy? Fine. We’ll just take the whole thing, come on.” Alex snarled as she unbuckled the seat belt running beneath the carseat and yanked the whole contraption out of the vehicle. 

“Miss Danvers?!” The crosswalk assistant shrieked. 

“I hate you!” Julien shouted, his face turning red. 

Alex ignored them both and stomped around her car to the sidewalk where Walter stood dutifully with wide eyes. As Alex crossed behind her vehicle, she made eye contact with the enraged woman behind her and deliberately lifted her free arm to make a show of locking her now dead and useless SUV. She didn’t really see what all the fuss was about, it wasn’t like any of the cars ahead of her had moved more than a few inches in the last fifteen minutes. 

Julien’s carseat was bulky, and Alex almost dropped it several times.

“Stop squirming.” Alex growled as she jerked her chin to signal to Walter to start walking the few hundred yards up the hill to the Pre-School entrance. 

“Put me down! Aleeeex! Put me down!” Julien howled, kicking his feet and waving his fists. 

“Not until you’re ready to put your shoes on.” Alex retorted. 

“Mom isn’t gonna be happy when she hears about this.” Walter muttered as he walked in step with his aunt.

“Who’s gonna tell her?” Alex demanded, glancing down at her nephew with a raised eyebrow. Walter gulped and ducked his head down. 

“I’ll tell her! I will! Mom will be so mad!” Julien howled. 

“Alright, enough.” Alex rolled her eyes as she plopped the carseat down in the shade of one of the trees near the preschool entrance. Alex had received several stares and odd glances as she made her way up the hill lugging the carseat from both parents and teachers, but frankly she didn’t give a damn. 

Alex squatted down in front of her nephew who was still breathing heavily, his face red and angry. 

“Jules, look at me.” Alex said sternly. 

Her nephew shook his head and kept his head turned away. 

Alex sighed and took up one of her nephew’s feet, jamming his shoe on none too gently. 

“You know that I love you more than anything—if it were up to me, I’d spend every single day with you and your brothers eating ice cream and playing Ninja Aliens.” Alex could tell by the way her nephew hadn’t kicked her yet that he was in fact listening. “But I have a job. And I really like it. And something tells me that you’re really gonna like pre-school too, if you’d just give it a chance.” 

Alex sat back on her haunches. She’d finished with her nephew’s shoes and she waited to see if he would take them off to throw in her face or perhaps start screaming again. Walter stood just to Alex’s left—he seemed to be holding his breath. 

Julien finally sighed and looked back at Alex. His cheeks were still a little red and there was snot crusted at his nose, but he did at least look penitent. 

“Okay.” Julien muttered, his voice still carrying an edge. 

“Okay. Good.” Alex nodded. She reached out and unbuckled the seatbelt, in essence freeing the curbed but perpetually enraged spirit of her nephew. 

“Now, I want you to march in there and cause as much trouble as you can, alright? Color me a picture. Watch out for each other.” Alex said sternly as she stood and cupped Walter’s chin before using her sleeve to wipe Julien’s nose. 

“Copy that, Commander.” Walter grinned, saluting. Julien just shrugged his shoulders and grabbed his brother’s hand, yanking him around so they could head to the entrance. 

Alex sighed and lifted her eyes to the sky—it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet and she felt like she’d been hit by a Vaaldorian right in the gut.

Alex heard screeching tires and turned slightly to see that the line of cars had finally made some progress—and the angry parents at the very back of the line were zooming out and around her stationary vehicle. It also looked as if the Crosswalk assistant had called for reinforcements. 

Alex rolled her eyes and bent to retrieve the carseat. 

She was almost knocked over by a fast-moving object slamming into her legs. Alex grunted and glanced down, a little surprised to see Julien hugging her tightly. 

“I don’t hate you, Aunt Alex.” Julien whispered. 

Alex’s throat constricted and she nodded curtly. She cleared her throat and brushed a hand lightly through her nephew’s hair. 

“Have fun.” She gestured half-heartedly toward the school and before she knew it her nephew was running doggedly back up the hill to join his brother under the arch. 

Alex waved one final time and then took up the carseat. 

She jogged back down the hill, ignoring the angry glares and a few rude gestures that were tossed in her direction as the parents who had been stalled behind her finally sped up the hill. 

Alex fished her keys from her pocket and unlocked her SUV as she approached, but when she looked up she almost dropped them. 

The Crosswalk Helper was standing right beside her car, talking animatedly to a cop—but not just _a_ cop. It was _the_ cop. Maggie Sawyer.

Just as Alex felt guilt and heat and shame rising to her cheeks, Maggie Sawyer looked up from her little detective notebook to fix her dark eyes on Alex. 

“Ah, it’s you.” Maggie said brightly, her dimples showing through as she flipped her logbook closed.

Alex’s eyes were wide and her heart was pounding erratically, but she tried to do her best to remain suave and calm as she crossed the last few steps to her vehicle. 

“Yes, ummm—good to see you again, Officer.” Alex said as casually as she could as she struggled to hold onto the large carseat with one hand so she could yank open one of the back doors. Alex was surprised when Maggie Sawyer stepped close enough to open the door for her, flashing her dimples again. 

“Likewise, Danvers—I didn’t know you had a kid.” Maggie Sawyer said with a soft chuckle as she noted the carseat and the toys all over the floorboards of the black SUV. It was yet another piece of vital information about Alex Danvers that Maggie Sawyer locked away in her mind. 

“Oh, no—well, I don’t. Have kids I mean. Or any person, for that matter. I’m unattached. Childless. Single. I mean—nevermind, I _do_ have people. I mean, I have friends and my sister Kara. And these are—these belong to my nephews. I was just—dropping them off this morning.” Alex stammered. She wanted to kick herself. 

“Ah, I see.” Maggie said lightly, raising an eyebrow. So it was _Kara_ who had the kids— _interesting_. 

“Now, Mavis here was telling me that you caused quite a disturbance this morning, Alex.” Maggie said as she pulled out her logbook again. 

“Okay, now that is an _exaggeration_.” Alex said, her eyes narrowing as she pointed accusingly at the Crosswalk Assistant. 

“It most definitely was _not_.” The older woman defended. “Miss Danvers disrupted the order of the morning drop-off with her honking and her belligerent attitude, and when I approached her she left her vehicle right in the middle of the procession with a clear disregard for how her actions would inconvenience the other parents—”

“Okay, so the honking was an accident and I only honked once.” Alex snapped, her brown eyes starting to burn like coals. “It was the _other parents_ who really got into it, especially Mrs. Morrison, but she’s always like that. And _I_ _told you_ that we were having a rough morning so I’m _sorry_ if my attitude wasn’t exactly up to your standards, _Mavis_.”

“Alright, alright, let’s everybody calm down for a second.” Maggie suggested, very aware that both women were growing tenser by the minute.

“Now, Mavis—was anyone hurt?” Maggie asked, turning to the older woman. 

“I’m sorry?” The matron asked. 

“This morning during the drop-off was anyone seriously injured? Did Miss Danvers’s actions directly cause any accidents?”

“Well, no.” The Crosswalk Assistant admitted. “No, she didn’t, but she did put a lot of people’s noses out of joint; and we had a lot of disgruntled parents speeding up the hill to get around her car—”

Maggie Sawyer held up a hand, her eyebrow ticking up. “But no one was hurt?”

“No, Officer—no one was hurt.” Mavis admitted bitterly. 

“Then the best I can do is give Miss Danvers here a stern talking too—and let her off with a warning.” Maggie said, patting Alex’s shoulder in a companionable way. Alex took a small step to the side to put some distance between herself and Officer Dimples. 

“Thank you, Officer.” Mavis said tiredly, fiddling with the stop sign that she always carried. 

“Anytime.” Maggie beamed. “You have a great day, Mavis.” 

Mavis sighed and shot Alex one last loathsome glance before she started back up the hill to retire her uniform until the afternoon when all of this would start again, with the drop-off zone becoming the even more important pick-up point.

Alex rolled her eyes at the retreating form of the old woman and fiddled with her keys. 

The hill seemed cleared now, which was in itself a blessing, but it also meant that Alex was running much later than she’d bargained for. All of the children milling around on the playground equipment had gone inside after the 9 o’clock bell—and Alex was always away before the 9 o’clock bell. 

“Listen ummm—thanks for that.” Alex started as she glared down at the ground. She couldn’t figure out what it was about Maggie Sawyer that left her at a complete disadvantage. Alex wasn’t often at a loss for words. She could charm her way around most people, or intimidate them if she didn’t feel like putting in the extra effort of smiling. 

But Maggie seemed to somehow make all of that impossible. Her smile was disarming. 

And Alex wasn’t sure how to operate without her usual armor. 

“No problem.” Maggie laughed, casually shifting her weight and popping out her right hip as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Right well—I’m late for work, so…” Alex tried to be as nonchalant as possible as she reached for her car door—it was her only means of escape. 

“Whoa, whoa—wait a second.” Maggie said, her casual expression turning slightly surprised as she reacted without thinking and slammed the car door shut again. 

Alex blinked—not sure what had just happened. 

“Sorry.” Maggie apologized brusquely before she squeezed her forearms tighter to remind herself to get a grip and then changed tactic. “But I wasn’t kidding before—I do have to give you a warning.”

“And I wasn’t kidding either—I am actually late for work.” Alex insisted as she reached for her door again. 

“And where is work?” Maggie asked, deliberately leaning against the door as she smiled up at Alex. 

Alex huffed and took a step back, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed the outlier to the get-to-work equation. 

“Department of Energy.” Alex said evenly. 

“Wow.” Maggie whistled. “You guys have that super secret facility about twenty miles northeast of town? Out in the desert?” 

Alex’s expression darkened. 

The DEO bunker was precisely fifteen miles north and two miles east of Midvale, but the roads were all switchbacks and dead ends around the great sandstone formations, making it appear farther—it was nearly impossible to find and blended in well with the natural environment. 

“Why so many questions?” Alex deflected, eyeing the Highway Patrolwoman up and down. 

“No reason.” Maggie shrugged. “I pegged you for a government type—just wasn’t sure if you were a permanent fixture to the area or were simply passing through.” 

“No, this is my home.” Alex frowned. 

Maggie’s smile seemed to grow brighter. “Mine too. Now, anyway. For awhile at least.”

Alex catalogued this information away and tried not to appear too interested in what had the makings of an intriguing origin story. 

“So what—did you transfer here or something?” Alex demanded.

“Very perceptive, Agent Danvers.” Maggie teased.

Alex’s spine stiffened a little at the title. She reached up irritably to rub at her forehead, wondering how on earth Maggie Sawyer had managed to keep her chatting here for so long. 

“And what about the girlfriend? Did she come with you or are you just really good at making friends really fast?” Alex asked.

Maggie seemed to recoil a little at that and her bright smile fell away. 

“No. Sara comes and goes as she pleases.” Maggie said a little stiffly. 

“Right. Sorry. That’s—that’s none of my business.” Alex reached for her door more deliberately now, wanting to extricate herself from this tanking conversation as quickly as humanly possible. 

“No, no—it’s alright. I asked about work, so it’s only natural that you should make digs about my personal life.” Maggie said casually as she watched Alex scramble into her car and jam her keys into the ignition. 

Alex closed her eyes and sighed. She counted to five and then turned her head to Maggie who was standing with her hands in her pockets. 

“Look—I’m sorry. You did me a huge favor before diffusing that situation with Crosswalk Mavis and—and I appreciate that you’re letting me off with a warning. Consider me warned.” Alex tried to sound as sincere as possible. 

“Mhmmm.” Maggie hummed, eyeing Alex. “I suppose if you let me buy you a drink later so I can give you the stern talking to, we could call it even.” 

“You want to buy me a drink?” Alex repeated slowly, her eyebrows slowly inching together. 

“Yes.” Maggie said with a shrug. 

“To lecture me about traffic violations?” Alex finished, still confused. 

“Well, you did leave your vehicle unattended in the middle of a busy school zone…”

“I was gone for like three minutes.” Alex defended.

“And you did get into a rather heated argument with the Crosswalk Attendant, who is part of a program sponsored by the Midvale PD, so it could be construed as the verbal assault of an officer of the law—”

“What?! That’s ridiculous!” Alex flushed. 

“You see? You do not seem to fully grasp the gravitas of the warning you have been issued.” Maggie drawled slowly. 

“I—what—” Alex could feel heat tingeing her cheeks and she was angry with herself. For all of this. And angry at Maggie Sawyer for looking so smug while Alex struggled to find it in herself to manage an articulate sentence. 

“Alright, _fine_.” Alex finally snapped, glowering at the Officer. “Drinks later. But you better not spend the whole evening trying to convince me that my telling off Mavis was a crime.” 

“You got it.” Maggie grinned as she stepped back so Alex could pull her door shut and drive away.

She stood for several moments in the middle of the round about, watching the black SUV with narrowed eyes—knowing full well that Alex Danvers would be more prone to drive carefully if she stayed where she was, in plain view, as the large vehicle merged with the downtown traffic. 

When Maggie saw Alex Danvers finally pull into the northbound lane, she let out a sigh of relief and stuck her hands in her jacket pockets as she jogged back across the road to her police cruiser. The other officers were still finishing up with the two drivers of the early morning collision—both clearly victims of road rage. It was a simple case, more paperwork than excitement. 

But Maggie couldn’t help but be glad that she’d answered the radio call this morning—that she’d headed out to the scene and noticed the disturbance across the road. 

It had gotten her that much closer to Alex Danvers.


	35. Day 1: Taking Out the Trash and Cleaning the Dishes

Lena was not sure how the dogs had gotten back into the house—

Actually, to be frank, Lena couldn’t recall how she herself had managed to get back into the house after she’d been so viciously attacked. 

But she somehow found herself back in the kitchen with the garden hose lying at her feet like some kind of dilapidated snake and the two brown-eyed beasts had made themselves comfortable on the living room furniture. 

Lena had considered trying to chase them outside—but had dismissed that idea quickly after considering all the ways such a task may backfire, and end with her reduced to a pile of slobbery bones somewhere in the front yard. Lena decided it was best not to upset the large creatures—and she did her best to stay away from them. 

At the moment, she was still stuck on the second task for her day—taking out the garbage. 

She’d already thrown the garden hose up and over one of the exposed beams up in the ceiling—it had taken at least seven attempts. And after she’d looped the end around the trash sack, Lena was pretty sure she could offset the weight somehow and pull the trash free of the can. 

But she had to be careful with the angles. 

Lena kicked the excess hose toward the opposite end of the kitchen and rubbed her palms along the sweatpants she was wearing. Lena took a deep breath and then took the hose firmly with both hands and experimentally pulled, watching as the strain tightened the knot she’d tied around the trash bag. Lena swallowed and dug in her heels, pulling harder. For several seconds nothing happened, and Lena feared that either the knot would come undone, or the cheap plastic of the trash bag would tear and rip and she’d be right where she’d started. 

But slowly, the bag seemed to rise a little—not much, but it was a start. 

Lena adjusted her grip and pulled again, forcing herself to take small, stuttering steps forward as she strained to lift the bag higher and higher. A few times it seemed to catch and fight her—the bulk of the mess contained in the bag too much for the round can it called home, but eventually, Lena managed to free it. 

She was sweating slightly and the hose cut into her palms. 

Lena craned her neck and glanced up at the bag suspended about six feet above the kitchen floor. 

She couldn’t stop herself from grinning. 

It was a small accomplishment. 

Lena took a moment to catch her breath before she took a tiny step back. And then another. And another.

Lena froze when she heard snuffling from the living room. 

“No, no—stay back.” Lena warned as the shapely snout of one of the beasts came into view. 

The dog of course, didn’t heed her at all and the next thing Lena knew the large animal was running right for her, slobbering and whimpering. 

Lena shrieked and let go of the hose so she could try to curl in on herself and protect her head. 

Krypto collided with Lena just as the large trash sack crashed to the floor, causing the plastic to tear along the bottom and several moldy banana peels and other questionable things to spill out onto the floor. 

“You _monster_!” Lena lamented, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.

For her part, Krypto did seem to take the dark tone to heart and hung her head. 

Lena stomped over to the trash sack and grabbed the top, too angry to truly think through this new problem. She simply dragged the busted bag along the hallway—fully aware that she was trailing a revolting mess behind her. 

The other dog barked and appeared then as well, drawn by the smells of the garbage. 

“Oh, so you’ll risk your health to eat _that_ but not the chicken?!” Lena was furious. 

The two dogs were snuffling along the trail of garbage, but Lena didn’t wait to see if they licked up the ooze or not. She shoved the screen door open and dragged the sack outside. It was getting lighter the further she went, and Lena tried not to think about that as she searched for a dumpster of some kind. 

There was a rather burnt one at the end of the lane. 

Lena took a sharp breath and struck out for it, refusing to turn and look at the ilk she trailed behind her. 

When Lena returned to the house, she was grimier than before and she was in a _far less_ agreeable mood. 

She hardly glanced at the great brutes feasting on the garbage in the hallway, but went straight to the kitchen to look over the list again. 

#3 Wash Dishes

#4 Do Laundry

#5 Make Beds

#6 Clean kitchen

#7 Clean bathroom

#8 Clean living room

#9 Vacuum Carpets

#10 Sweep and Mop wooden floors

#11 Scrub Windows

#12 Chop wood

#13 Clean out gutters

#14 Weed garden

The list went on and on. 

And given how well the first two tasks had gone, Lena doubted she would be able to complete even the first page of her chores. 

But she would try her damnedest. 

The sink seemed far too small for washing all of the dishes that were piled up on the counter. So Lena lugged them out onto the back porch and dumped them unceremoniously into what appeared to be a hot-tub. 

"You want me to wash the dishes? Fine." Lena muttered to herself as she stomped back into the house and thew open cabinet after cabinet until she found a large container of _PalmOlive_.

"I will wash your _goddamn_ dishes." Lena growled as she squeezed out every last drop of the green liquid over the pile of dishes. "Even though I have _absolutely no memory_ of eating any of these meals--definitely not that moldy lasagna. I don't even cook! _How_ are there so many dirty dishes if I don't even cook?! And God, _why_ are so many of these covered in ketchup? Yes, that stock pot was my fault, but the rest of this mess is _not mine_."

Lena felt something like defiance or pride burning in her veins when she finally stepped back inside to yank down the hose from the rafters. The muscles in her arms ached, but she was too stubborn to quit--she might not have any clue who she was, but she definitely knew that about herself. 

The dogs watched Lena warily from the living room couches, their ears perked. 

"Don't get too comfortable." Lena huffed as she struggled to haul the hose back out onto the porch so she could use it to fill the hot tub and get started on _washing the dishes_ , "Because when I get to #8, I am definitely kicking your furry butts outside!"

Krypto tilted her head slightly, but didn't move from the couch. 

Lena struggled with sweaty fingers to get the hose attached to the spigot, it was rusted and difficult, and she was half tempted to resort to duct tape just to _get it on there_ , but finally she seemed to get it secure. She let out a cheer and hurried to string the hose over the porch rail and over the lip of the hot tub. 

"Number Three, here we go!" Lena cackled as she turned on the water. 

She thought she was starting to get the hang of this--and that sense of accomplishment was incredibly addicting. 

There was a deep rumble from somewhere far below the house, as if the pipes were protesting, and both dogs inside lifted their heads. 

Lena let out a yell of triumph as the water finally sprung from the hose in an angry torrent—and splashed over the pots and pans, plastic cups and plates, and all the cutlery lining the bottom of the hot tub. Lena stood on the steps to the hot tub, grinning wickedly as she watched the water rise, and an impressive mountain of foamy, white bubbles. 

"Yes, yes, yes!" Lena cackled gleefully, lifting her arms as if to embrace the bubbly monster. "Three Down! Take that Alex!" 

Inside, Pluto yawned and dropped his head onto his paws, clearly feeling he had plenty of time for a nap in the sun before his new master was going to get _anywhere close_ to chore #8.


	36. Ms. Grant's Proposition

Kara wasn’t particularly fond of driving. She preferred flying—it was more efficient and there was never any traffic. 

But, fostering a normal persona included getting a driver’s license and a truck to drive sometimes. 

Today, it was a particularly sunny day, and Kara rolled both windows down so she could feel the wind as she drove through Midvale. She was hopeful as she pulled into the lumberyard, hopeful because Ms. Grant had asked to see her even after Kara had thought she’d lost her chance. 

Kara slid down from her truck and waved to several of the workers she knew—Dave and Ed and a few others. They were loading up for some kind of job—loading up quite a lot of cedar. Kara made a face and grabbed her new tool kit. 

She smiled as she nodded to the men waiting under the shade of the lumberyard’s awning. 

There was a particular smell to the lumberyard—freshly shaved wood, sap and crushed pine needles, clean sweat, an electricity from all of the power tools. 

Kara loved it. 

She ran a hand through her hair and used her hip to push into the main building. The receptionist looked up from behind the large monitor at the front desk and gave Kara a warm smile. 

“Good morning, Miss Danvers—Ms. Grant will be just a moment.” 

“Right.” Kara shifted her weight and prepared to wait. 

There weren’t many chairs available—most of the front ‘office’ space was taken up with workbenches and buckets of clear coat, but Kara wandered idly over to the nearest corkboard to glance over the proposal for a new front to the Downtown post office, ranch style with cedar pillars. Kara thought it looked a little antiquated, but she supposed if the city wanted the post office to stand out—refacing the front of their building in this way would definitely set them apart from the rest of the red brick district. 

“Ah, Kiera—there you are.” 

Kara turned as Ms. Grant breezed into the room. She was wearing a fashionable ensemble and somehow seemed to navigate the lumberyard without ever picking up a single wood shaving—not in her perfectly trimmed yellow locks or the fur lining her coats. Kara didn’t know how she did it. 

Kara was always getting paint on her clothes and wood chips in the cuffs of her jeans. 

“Oh, Ms. Grant—hi! It’s so good to see you.” Kara called as she extended her free hand. 

“Spare me the pleasantries, Kiera. We have work to do—chop, chop. Follow me.” Ms. Grant glided right past Kara without acknowledging her extended hand or salutation. 

If Kara hadn’t already been acquainted with her brusqueness, she might have been offended. 

But this was not her first encounter with the woman, and Kara desperately hoped it wouldn’t be her last. 

She knew better than to ask questions. Kara simply nodded to the receptionist and rushed to hold the door open for Ms. Grant before following her back out into the bustle of the yard. 

The workers outside all seemed to stop and many mumbled half-discernable greetings, but Ms. Grant hardly heeded them. 

“Come on, people—this is _not_ a holiday.” Ms. Grant rolled her eyes behind her enormous sunglasses and immediately the yard sprung back to life as if a switch had been flipped.

Kara had to duck under several beams that were being toted to the waiting company truck and let a few barrels roll past—but Ms. Grant seemed to dodge these obstacles without deviating from her path. 

It took Kara a moment to realize that Ms. Grant had led her right back to the parking lot. 

“Is this one yours?” Ms. Grant demanded, lowering her glasses just enough to peer with disdain at the old Chevy truck that was missing a fender.

“Oh, well, yes. It’s mine.” Kara said quickly, reaching up to push her glasses up on her nose. 

“Keys.” Ms. Grant extended her hand and Kara stared for a full minute before she realized what she meant. 

“Oh—wait, you want the keys to my truck?”

“Are we going to stand out here in the heat all morning or are you going to save us all a lot of trouble by desisting with the impertinent questions?” Ms. Grant demanded. 

Kara tried not to gape at the woman as she fished her keys out of her pocket and handed them over. 

Ms. Grant turned and unlocked the vehicle, slipping into the driver’s seat fluidly. 

Kara was still standing frozen on the sidewalk when Miss Grant started the engine. 

Then Kara took a sharp breath and hopped into the cab, holding her toolkit in her lap. 

Ms. Grant didn’t seem accustomed to driving a stick-shift, but to her credit she managed to look rather intimidating as she cranked the truck up and sped out of her own parking lot, scattering workers and foremen alike. 

Kara could only hold on for dear life.

As the minutes passed, Kara began to think that perhaps she should break the silence, but then she remembered that she was supposed to desist from asking stupid questions, so instead she bit her tongue and fiddled with her glasses. Somehow, her thoughts strayed to Lena—and she wondered how her morning was going. 

“Tell me, Kiera—what do you see?” Ms. Grant suddenly asked as she pulled up to the first stop sign. 

“Oh ummm—” Kara sat up straighter and peeked out the window. “Well, there’s the antique shoppe—oh, and there’s the library. There’s the newspaper office building…”

“Yes, very observant.” Ms. Grant drawled in a tone that told Kara she was not impressed. “Look closer.” 

Kara swallowed and glanced out the window, squinting. She could see a few people walking here and there, mostly young mothers and middle aged people coming out of the Winn Dixie. There was a bit of commotion near the library, but it was just a crane helping to clear away the rubble from the chimney collapse. 

“Ummm—lots of broken buildings?” Kara guessed, glancing back at Ms. Grant. 

“Bingo.” Ms. Grant said as she hit the accelerator and pushed the stick forward with a terrible grating sound. “After that freak storm, Midvale is in crisis.” 

Kara gazed out her window—from what she could see most of the damage had been superficial. LiveWire’s storm had blown right over the town, winds so powerful they toppled trees and chimneys and the press box over the high school football stadium, while her electrical pulses did little more than start one or two grass fires that local volunteer firemen put out. 

Kara had seen worse when she’d fought LiveWire in Metropolis—high rises had fallen, fires had spread wildly and there had been electrical outages over most of the eastern seaboard. And, lives had been lost. The storms over Midvale had resulted in no casualties—well, no human casualties at least. There had been reports that down fences had cost a few local farmers a few head of cattle—but Kara liked to think they’d wandered off to a better place. 

“So—you want me to rebuild the Coop? Get the Piggly Wiggly a new sign?” Kara asked, her brow furrowing. 

Those were _jobs_ , of course, but they weren’t exactly Kara’s specialty. She could handle big projects, sure. But she liked detail work. When Kara had first come to earth—she’d had a difficult time fitting in, not just with people, but into her own skin. Skin that was impenetrable and muscles that crushed things when she wasn’t careful. Kara had been too afraid to hug her adopted sister for the first few months she’d been with the Danvers, too afraid to run at full speed or pet an animal. She’d gone through a period where she had been afraid to touch anything—pencils snapped in her hands, opening doors often resulted in her ripping them from their hinges, plastic and glass all shattered in her hands. Kara was grateful for her strength when it came to fighting off invaders or evildoers—but it had taken her a long time to figure out how to function in such a frail world. 

Her first big success had been Eliza’s piano. 

She’d found it in the garage when she was fifteen, and had restored it. Slowly. Sanding the wood, replacing a broken leg and the pedals, working for hours with a fine chisel to replicate the original designs along the bench—it had taken her two years. 

“Honestly Kiera—would you want a plumber to operate on your brain?”

“Ummm—”

“Of course not.” Ms. Grant slapped one hand down on the wheel to emphasize her point. “Because a plumber specializes in one thing—I can’t for the life of me think of what that is at the moment, but whatever it is, he is very good at it. And he sticks with it because it is what he does best.”

“Right.” Kara supplied, more confused than ever. 

Ms. Grant had turned into one of the city parks, one of the few in their county that had more than just a playground—there were at least sixteen acres of green space all around, some of it hiking trails around the lake and some of it just open fields where picnics and festivals were often held—soon the Fall Fest would be held here. 

“Exactly.” Ms. Grant nodded. “So when I say that our town is falling apart, I am in no way suggesting that you get it into your little head to come waltzing in with a hammer and a bucket of nails to fix it—we’ll leave that to those mindless, but effective drones back at the plant.” 

Ms. Grant winked at Kara as she folded her sunglasses and exited the truck.

Kara had to reach over to shut off the engine. 

“But wait—Ms. Grant, I’m a drone—I mean, a carpenter.” Kara called as she tugged the keys free and then kicked open her own door to hurry around the vehicle. 

“Ah, Mr. Olsen.” Ms. Grant ignored Kara and approached the man Kara hadn’t noticed was leaning against one of the nearby benches. 

“James!” Kara was genuinely surprised to see her friend. 

“Ms. Grant. Kara.” James nodded toward Kara as he shook Ms. Grant’s hand. 

“Wonderful. We all know each other. Now, this way.” Ms. Grant snapped, taking the lead as she struck out down the path, leaving the swings and slides behind. 

“Now, James—I need a shot of the foundation here, and then of the hill just there.” Ms. Grant indicated the two areas and James nodded as he produced his camera from the pack slung over one shoulder. 

“James—what’s going on?” Kara asked in a quiet whisper. 

James shrugged. “I really don’t know—I think Ms. Grant petitioned the city to let her build something out here.”

“Kiera, come here.” Ms. Grant called over her shoulder. 

Kara leapt to obey. 

“Well—what do you think?” Ms. Grant asked, walking in slow circles as she glanced around the area. 

Kara swallowed and glanced from left to right. 

The park itself was massive, but the equipment only took up a very small section near the entrance. Aside from a few picnic tables here and there—nothing quite stood out aside from a slight rise a few meters ahead—a hill. And of course, the towering trees that stretched as far as the eye could see just beyond the open field on all sides. 

“I—think that my boys like coming out here sometimes.” Kara offered.

“Yes, and why aren’t they here right now?” Ms. Grant demanded. 

Kara frowned and rubbed at the back of her neck. 

“Well, school started on Monday, and—”

“Because it’s _pathetic_ , Kiera, that’s why.” Ms. Grant snapped. “Did you know that there are four city parks in Midvale? Well, _five_ if you count that concrete monstrosity at the elementary school—and _every single one of them_ has the same thing—a slide. Some swings. A table. A trash can.” 

“My twins really like the merry-go-round.” Kara offered, gesturing toward the circular contraption that Julien loved to spin as fast as his little legs would allow. 

“My point, Kiera, is that there is no _pizzazz_.” Ms. Grant said with a sniff. “Nothing spectacular. Are you aware that those bureaucrats up in Elk Snout tried to make a case for moving the Fall Festival up there?” 

Kara could tell from Ms. Grant’s tone that such a change would be drastic beyond reparation. 

“No—No, I didn’t know that. Why—why would they want to do that?” Kara asked, cringing. 

“Because they have a park with fountains!” Ms. Grant snarled, her eyes blazing. “They have a venue that draws visitors like moths to honey and they think that means they are better equipped to host the largest social event of the year!” 

“Okay, but isn’t it supposed to be ‘bees’?” Kara asked, getting a little lost. 

“Don’t change the subject!” Ms. Grant snapped. 

Kara nodded and glanced around again at the open space. 

“Okay, so—we need to make our park more accommodating. More inviting?” Kara guessed.

“Exactly!” Ms. Grant smiled. “In past years, the Fall Festival has drawn large crowds and significantly boosted the city’s local revenue. It’s one of the most exciting and profitable weekends of the year—but it’s also almost always ended in brawls and drunken shenanigans right here on this field and do you know why?” Ms. Grant asked, leveling her gaze at Kara.

“Just a misunderstanding?” Kara suggested timidly. 

“Wrong! Because the people are _bored_!” Ms. Grant said as if it should be obvious. 

“They load up their families and drive all the way out here and spend hours going from booth to booth, enjoying hay rides and bobbing for apples and whatever else the city council has cooked up—and when it’s time to eat they sit on the _ground_ while their children wait in obnoxiously long lines for a go at the swings!”

“Okay—okay. How do we fix it?” Kara asked, glancing again around the park. 

“Well, you could start by building us a decent pavilion of some kind—if it rains, we’re finished.” Ms. Grant said idly as she started walking again. 

Kara frowned and jogged to keep up.

“Okay, a pavilion. What else?” 

Ms. Grant stopped and glanced at Kara, her eyes narrowing. 

“How am _I_ supposed to know, Kiera? I merely made the arrangements. I don’t tell a potter how to mold their clay, and neither should you. Leave the artists to their craft, and all that.”

Kara could feel heat tinging her cheeks.

“You think I’m an artist?” 

Ms. Grant glanced away for a moment as if searching the baby blue sky for the proper put down. 

“I _think_ you were given an unfair shake when Maxwell Lord and his wife came into town. I _think_ you really should have come to me sooner. I _think_ there’s no one else within a hundred mile radius I would recommend for this job, and I think that if I’m impressed with your efforts, I may just take you on as our private consultant and designer.” 

Kara’s mouth dropped open. 

She had gotten used to Ms. Grant’s bluntness over time, but she had never really thought she would get a compliment from the woman. 

It seemed almost too precious—she felt unworthy. 

“Ms. Grant I—”

“Now, as you can imagine, you will have to work around this open field—at least 300 meters? Maybe only half that across—you know, a wide enough tract for all of the carnival people to set up, and for those teenage brutes to play their little football games. But I want you to build me an attraction, Kiera. Make people _want_ to come here, to spend more than just two hours here. Elk Snout may have a fountain, but I want you to give me what they don’t have.” Ms. Grant expanded grandly.

“Heart?” Kara guessed, her lips twitching into a smile. 

Ms. Grant’s eyes softened. “Bingo.” 

“Hey—I took some establishing shots along the trail as well.” James called as he jogged up to the two women. 

“Good. Now, when you get those printed, I want you to give them to Kiera here—and Kiera? Kiera.” Ms. Grant turned, for a moment having lost track of the carpenter. 

Kara had wandered a little away and was turning slowly. 

She could picture the pavilion, more picnic tables, and a gazebo up on the hill. If she cleared out a few of those old Spruce trees—the lake could be visible from the hill.

“Kiera!” Ms. Grant shouted.

“Oh, yes! Sorry—” Kara turned and jogged back to Ms. Grant and James. 

“Now, I may have spent several hours over the last few days in a stuffy city office arguing with the heads of the Parks department to get you free reign over the area, but that doesn’t mean that we can forget getting the go ahead at each step. I’ll need you to draw up some plans for me to present by Monday morning—and once that’s approved, we can get you a crew.” Ms. Grant said with a disinterested shrug of her shoulders. 

“Ms. Grant—thank you. Just—thank you so much.” Kara started. 

She was overwhelmed with the desire to hug Ms. Grant tightly, but she knew the older woman would not appreciate such an open display of affection, not even if the moment called for it.

“Yes well—it’s almost noon and I need to check on my underlings at the newspaper. Chop, Chop.” Ms. Grant slipped her sunglasses back on and started back toward the truck. 

Kara shook her head, a heavy breath escaping her as she looked around once more. 

It seemed like such a big job—but Kara’s mind was already racing with all that she could do, all she could build. 

“So…she offered you a job?” James asked, grinning.

Kara nodded, a smile splitting her face. “Yeah. Well, technically it’s kind of just a trial project I guess, but if she likes it, she’ll—”

“Oh, she’ll like it.” James chuckled. “No one aims to please quite as eagerly as you do, Kara Danvers.” 

Kara could only chuckle and glance down at the ground, her ears tinging a little pink as she thought once again of Lena—of the closet she had tried to get just right. 

Kara glanced up when she heard the horn of her truck blaring once more. 

“Kiera, don’t dawdle!” 

Kara gulped and hugged James quickly. 

“Don’t tell the others yet.” Kara whispered. 

“Okay—why not?” James asked smoothly. 

“I want to tell them—over drinks!” Kara called over her shoulder as she hurried across the green space. 

James nodded and waved. 

He was tempted to snap a picture of the impatient Ms. Grant leaning out of the small truck window to lecture Kara about the importance of a brisk step—but he decided against it. 

Instead he just slipped his hands into his pockets and tilted his head back to soak in a little sun.


	37. Facing the Martian...

J’onn Jonz ran a tight operation. 

His clandestine agency was full of highly trained, highly effective agents who were making breakthroughs in alien technologies and alien sciences for humans and non-humans alike. His station chief in Metropolis saw more action than his agents here in Midvale, but J’onn liked to believe that it was all part of a bigger solution to a question most of earth’s inhabitants hadn’t quite figured out how to ask yet. 

J’onn afforded his agents many freedoms in their work, so long as they continued to consult with him and contribute to the team as a whole. He would always fight for them whenever patents or paperwork got held up by the bureaucrats he had deal with from Washington, and in return he demanded 3 things:

  * Efficiency
  * Loyalty
  * Punctuality



Three. Simple. Things.

Even after so many years, J’onn had never had cause to second guess his top agent’s performance before. Alex Danvers had always been loyal to the program. Had been what most would call a workaholic. Had spearheaded several projects that had resulted in fine new technologies and hardware for defense against alien hostiles. Her focus on the job had earned her quite the reputation, and she had never called in sick before—though that was not to say that she had never missed work days before. 

J’onn could still remember the day he had arrived for work to find Alex waiting outside his office door with a presentation easel tucked under her arm—it had been just a day or two after Kara had made the decision to move back to Midvale, and J’onn had expected Alex to have concerns about how her alien sister would be treated by the organization whose sacred mission was first and foremost to protect the earth against aliens just like her—but the presentation she had unmasked had been a simple calendar, marked with all of the dates she would now need to take off, birthdays and school holidays—all mapped out in extreme detail for the next two years. 

It made J’onn chuckle to think back on it—and it always made him smile to think of how privileged he was to work with the Danvers girls—he had never met any sisters who loved each other so fiercely. So of course, he had been happy to adjust Alex’s schedule so she could continue to be the ‘cool aunt’. 

And J’onn had never seen her more happy than when Kara and the boys had moved into town. 

If anything—her work had improved. Happy workers, and all that.

But something had definitely changed recently.

J’onn could feel it. 

Ever since the LiveWire debacle, something was different. 

Alex had been acting differently, behaving strangely. And when she and Winn both called in sick—that was a red flag. Those two together were affectionately called the Mayhem Nerds and less affectionately called _ingrates_. Agent Vasquez mostly just called them a pain in the ass. 

J’onn would never stoop so low, but he would freely admit that the pair had caused him more than one headache over the years. And the fact that he could sense nothing from his agent this morning only made him even more suspicious.

J’onn had been sitting in his office with Alex for over fifteen minutes now. And neither of them had spoken. 

He continued to search Alex’s face for some clue, and she continued to stare stonily back. 

J’onn cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting to see if Alex would mirror his movements. 

She didn’t move except to cross her ankles. 

Neither agent nor Director moved despite the knocking at the office door. 

“Come in.” J’onn drawled, barely moving his lips. 

“Sorry to disturb you, Sir—but we’ve got an update on the Maaldorian matter.” Agent Vasquez called from the doorway. 

“Excellent, you can have Danvers in a minute…” J’onn said sternly. 

Susan Vasquez sucked in her cheeks, clearly wanting to say something further, but then she nodded her head and turned to go. 

“Vasquez—send me Schott.” J’onn called without looking away from Alex. 

His agent couldn’t keep back a flicker of frustration, the slight downward tick of her eyebrows. 

J’onn waited for the office door to click closed before finally addressing his stubborn agent. 

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” J’onn finally asked.

“Nope. I blame Winn.” Alex said coldly as the office door opened to reveal the very man whose name she’d invoked. 

“What? I didn’t do anything.” Winn protested, his face noticeably pale. 

“Take a seat, Agent Schott.” J’onn growled gruffly, indicating the empty seat beside Alex. 

Winn was shoved forward by a smirking Vasquez, but when Winn turned back to shoot her a glare, the woman just pulled the office door closed. Winn sighed and attempted to smooth back his hair as he scurried to take the seat his boss had indicated. He immediately started fidgeting.

“Now—would you like to elaborate, Alex?” J’onn asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Winn and I met up at the bar the other night. We had a few beers, shared the same plate of buffalo wild wings—yesterday I was holed up sick.” Alex said smoothly. 

Winn swallowed and tried to stop his leg from shaking. He could only smile sheepishly when J’onn turned his deep brown eyes on him. 

“I was sick too—throwing up, headache, chills, sweating, muscle fatigue—classic signs of food poisoning.” Winn recited less convincingly.

“I see.” J’onn said cryptically.

“The wings were Winn’s idea.” Alex cut back in. “Like I said—I blame him.” 

J’onn seemed to consider this for several minutes. He alternated between glaring at Winn and regarding Alex. 

Finally, he sighed and sat back in his chair. 

“Well, I can only say I am glad that the two of you are feeling well enough to come back in today.”

“Oh yes, I’m feeling much better.” Winn cut in, glancing to Alex for help.

“So much better.” Alex drawled. 

She knew J’onn didn’t believe her. But she would be damned if she changed her story.

“Fine then—get back to work.” J’onn dismissed the two agents with a wave of his hand. He was tired of listening to Alex’s silence and Winn’s frantic thoughts—the boy had clearly been coached. He was thinking the same thing over and over again—poison wings, poison wings, poison wings, Alex will kill me, poison wings…

And J’onn had better things to do than wait around to see if Winn would break this chain given time. He had several incident reports to fill out still regarding LiveWire and he was meeting with the City Council later in the evening to discreetly hand over a check for damages. 

Winn looked too nervous to stand at first, but Alex rose gracefully and hauled Winn up by his collar, practically dragging him to the door. The young man was unsure whether it would be more appropriate to laugh or to cry at their luck. 

“Thank you, Sir!” Winn called before Alex shoved him out of the office. 

J’onn rolled his eyes and settled back in his chair. 

J’onn was a patient man. He had no doubt the truth would come out eventually. He had two things working in his favor; Mr. Schott’s inability to keep a secret—but more importantly, Alex’s integrity. He knew the woman was stubborn to a fault. But he also suspected that whatever schemes she and Winn had gotten tangled up in was already compromised by Alex’s guilty conscience. And soon enough his top agent would be in his office again with a looser tongue. 

It was only a matter of time.


	38. Day 1: Chopping Wood

#12

That was where Lena felt like she'd hit a brick wall. Where she started to feel as if she'd reached her limit. Where she was starting to think _maybe_ she wasn't stubborn enough-- _maybe_ she should just give up.

That confidence she'd gotten when she'd finally done something right--it had only fizzled out as the day wore on and she failed spectacularly again and again at _everything_ she tried.

It was maddening. 

For one thing, she felt extremely unprepared. Not only did she have no idea where any of the cleaning supplies were, but Alex's list was only that--a list. It didn't come with _instructions_. What exactly did 'do the laundry' mean? Did 'cleaning' the various rooms of the house include dusting? What does one dust with? How could she 'make the beds' if none of the blankets seemed to match the sheets? How exactly does one manage to hold onto the vacuum cleaner when it clearly has a desire to wedge itself under the couch? 

Not only that--but she _hurt_. 

Her muscles protested as if she’d never done this kind of labor in her life. 

Her back creaked as she swept the floors and porch. 

Her fingers went numb and wrinkly from the sudsy water. 

Her knees hurt from scrubbing away at the stupid mashed potatoes all over the kitchen floor.

And still, despite all this pain--she was still getting everything _wrong._

She’d made the same mistake twice when she used too much detergent in the laundry, only this time the bubble monster she created didn't just grow tall--it chased her from the room, riding a wave of water.

She’d had to use about fifty towels just to mop everything up, only to then realize that she would have to go through the whole thing again to wash those very towels when she was finished.

So now she was hurting _and_ frustrated.

But at least chore #12 gave her an excuse to get out of the stupid, impossible to clean house!

Lena blinked against the brightness of the sun and ambled around the yard on wobbly legs, looking for an axe or something she could use to chop wood.

Naturally, the beasts followed her. Lena had long since given up any hope of getting away from them. 

They were a constant shadow—heavily breathing and watching her with their honey brown eyes. 

Lena stepped into one shed and tripped over several cages and traps. 

The dogs barked and leaped to assist her—licking her face and generally giving her yet another heart attack.

“Leave me alone, you monsters!” Lena shouted. 

She scrambled to her feet and looked around, nausea rising in her throat when she saw the pelts stacked on a workbench—the guns hanging over the far wall…empty shells littered along the earthen floor. 

Lena took several quick steps back and left the shed behind her—a little shaken. 

“So you’re killers too, are you?” Lena asked darkly as she glared down at the dogs trotting happily by her side.

There was a lean-to only a few feet away and Lena checked there next. She found an old washing machine and what looked like a life’s supply of spam all hoarded away in one corner. There were several deep holes around the washing machine—and Lena was tempted to check for bones or buried treasure, but then she dismissed that thought with a shake of her head and slipped back out into the hateful sun. 

Now was _not_ the time to lose grip with reality.

Lena crossed the yard, giving the strange fire pit in the center of the yard a wide berth, and walked up to a much sturdier looking shed—this one with a locked door. She fiddled with the lock, hoping it would simply fall to the ground, but it didn’t. Lena sighed and circled the area, freezing when she saw a lawn mower and a chainsaw leaning against the side of the shed so casually.

“Please tell me that my children do not play with these power tools.” Lena begged of the dog on her right. 

The animal simply lifted its head and sneezed. 

“Wonderful.”

Lena took up the chainsaw and dragged it back to the center of the yard. It was heavy, and the teeth left strange grooves in the dirt as Lena dragged it behind her. Lena paused and glanced around, searching for a woodpile of some kind. She spotted one, but it was further up the lane, closer to the dumpster she had visited earlier that morning. 

Lena sighed and hefted the chainsaw over her shoulder. 

She dragged her feet and tried to ignore the general cheer of the two beasts that walked by her side and wagged their tails every time she grunted or tried to speak. She did not wish to converse with them. It was simply easier to pose her questions to them occasionally so she did not feel as though she were speaking to herself. 

Lena stopped before the woodpile and leaned the chainsaw against the stump. 

There was no axe in sight—just several thick branches waiting to be stripped of leaves and limbs. Lena shaded her eyes and glanced back at the house. 

She’d left the wooden door open and the screen door creaked slightly in the breeze.

Lena sighed and glanced again at the pile of wood. 

The limbs were lying parallel to the tract of road. On the other side stood the mailboxes and a bit further on—the dumpster. On Lena’s side of the road were the logs and a scarecrow. Lena did not understand what significance the scarecrow held—to her eye none of the dirt around her looked tilled or even resembled a garden full of growing things. She did not know why a scarecrow was necessary, and the leering face irked her. 

Still, Lena tried to ignore it and instead squatted to try to figure out the chainsaw before she risked turning it on. 

It seemed fairly simple—there was a split grip, for holding with both hands, and a string to pull to get it going.

Lena shrugged and hefted the bulky piece of equipment. 

She did not notice that the dogs had retreated and were lying several hundred feet away, safe under the porch. 

Lena propped the end of the chainsaw up on one of the logs and braced herself as she tugged at the string. There was a slight whirring, but nothing else seemed to happen. Lena frowned and adjusted her grip. She pulled harder at the string and the whirring was more insistent this time, but still nothing happened. 

Lena lifted one leg to brace against the stump and this time pulled with all her might—which was a mistake. 

The chainsaw whirred to life, the teeth along the edges began to vibrate and hum as the chain rotated. The pull back almost sent Lena sprawling. 

She shrieked and tried to hold on with both hands as the tool in her hands leapt forward with even more power than the vacuum cleaner to eat through the first log at a skewed angle. It continued to eat down into the logs beneath and Lena shrieked again, yanking the tool back with all of her might—she seemed to lose control for a moment and sliced right through a fence post. 

She stumbled, trying to keep the leaping and whirring thing away from her body and somehow slammed right into one of the dead walnut trees. 

The teeth sank into the bark and for a moment, Lena swore everything stood still.

But then the saw seemed to vibrate all the faster, steam coming from the engine in the main body.

All Lena could do was hold on.


	39. Alex & Winn Talk Strategy

Alex _hated_ being at odds with J’onn.

Not only did it make for a tense work environment, it just didn't feel-- _right_.

He wasn’t only her mentor, he was like family. He’d practically saved her from herself when she’d been lost and wandering without purpose—and ever since then he’d been in her corner. Pushing her to be better. To be strong. And protecting her in every way he could. 

She admired him greatly. Loved him even.

She _hated_ lying to him. 

But she knew she couldn’t tell him the truth. Not this time. 

“Hey, you okay?” Winn’s voice was tentative, but echoed in the lab.

Alex roused herself and ran a hand through her hair, trying to remember what she was supposed to be doing. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” 

There was no one else in the lab—she and Winn were working on a pair of gauntlets for Superman to wear when he led the Maaldorian raid on Slaver’s Moon. The atmosphere there would strip him of his powers, so Alex was working on a pair of gauntlets imbued with the strength of Earth’s yellow sun. 

It had actually been Kara’s idea. And had times been different—Alex might have been preparing the molds two pairs of gauntlets. 

But for now at least, Kara had _other_ things to worry about…things that would keep her solidly planted right here on Earth. 

“I thought for sure he was gonna yell at us.” Winn’s voice drew Alex’s attention again and she frowned at the sheet of metal between her hands—she had measured it at least three times, but had yet to write anything down. 

“I mean, he looked like he really wanted to yell at us.” Winn continued with a sigh.

Alex hummed in acknowledgement and reached for the tape measure again. 

“I’ve never really seen him like that before. I mean, I’ve seen him get mad, sure, but he’s never been mad at _me_. Do you, ummm, think he’ll question us again?” 

“Winn,” Alex grunted, her voice low, “I really don’t think that’s something we should talk about at work.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” Winn nodded his head several times and then fell silent. 

He swiveled back and forth on his lab stool, deep in thought.

Alex finally got her measurements written down. They did not have enough of the metal to leave much room for error. Superman had rather large hands--Alex was glad now that she'd measured several times. She wanted to get it right. 

Alex pushed away from her station, and headed across the room to go fire up the laser she’d use to cut the Adamantium. She kept her eye on the temperature reading—the dull glow of the laser was a soft orange at the moment, but she needed to slowly heat it up to a vibrant red.

She tensed when she heard Winn’s sigh, and then wheels on the linoleum as he glided across the room on his stool. 

“It’s just that ummm,” Winn whispered tentatively, glancing over his shoulder more than once to be sure no one else had slipped into the room while he wasn’t looking, “Today was just the first day, and it was, ummm—” 

Alex glared down at him, quirking just one eyebrow, “Difficult?” 

“It was a _nightmare_!” Winn gasped, frustration and lingering panic raising his voice to a dangerous degree, “I’ve been looking over my shoulder all day! How are we supposed to keep this up?!” 

“Winn,” Alex sighed. She switched off the machine and reached up to pull off her safety goggles, giving up on even trying to make any headway while her lab partner was so obviously distressed. 

“ _How_ can you be so _calm_ about it?!” Winn suddenly exploded, envy and frustration making his voice rise to a dangerous degree. “J’onn went easy on us today, but what about tomorrow? Or the next day and the next?! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m _really_ not good at keeping secrets, and now I have to keep this one from my mind-reading boss? I mean—how the heck am I supposed to do that?”

Alex rolled her eyes and dropped a hand on Winn’s shoulder to stop him from yanking anymore of his own hair out. 

She peered into his eyes fiercely. “You good?” 

Winn sighed heavily. He was still wearing his safety goggles, so his eyes appeared almost comically overlarge. 

“Yeah,” Winn took a deep breath and then let it out, “Yeah, I guess so. Sorry. I guess I just, ummm, needed to get that off my chest.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Alex patted Winn’s shoulder and brushed by him to start cleaning her station, to put away her project until tomorrow, when she could hopefully come at it with fresher eyes. 

“How _do_ you do it, though?” Winn asked quietly. 

He was watching Alex—her hands weren’t even trembling. She looked as calm as ever.

“Seriously?” Winn prodded when Alex didn’t answer right away, his curiosity getting the better of him, “I mean, I was sweating buckets in there this morning and you were—you were like a rock.”

Alex tossed her gloves into the bin with finality and turned to face Winn. 

For a moment she studied him, chewing her bottom lip, then she just shrugged.

“I think about something else.” 

Winn looked almost offended. “What? That’s _it_?!”

Alex blew a strand of hair from her eyes and stuck her hands in the deep pockets of her lab coat. 

“Pretty much.” 

Winn still looked incredulous, “But—but that’s—”

Winn worked his jaw, trying to think of a damning enough adjective—something like _stupid_ or _too simple_ , but Alex’s cool expression seemed to indicate she was dead serious. “Okay, _fine_! What do you think about then?!”

Alex rolled her eyes, and then turned her head away, “Look, it’s not rocket science, Winn. Worrying is a natural response to this kind of stress, but when you catch yourself hyper-fixating, you’ve just got to distract yourself by thinking of something _bigger_.”

“Bigger.” Winn repeated with a frown. 

“ _Ugh_ , you know what I mean.” Alex snapped. “Just try thinking of something beyond your control—maybe something that hasn’t happened yet. Something that could turn out terrible, or wonderful. Just re-direct all your nervous energy.” 

Winn considered Alex’s words for a long moment.

“Well," He finally broke the silence, "there’ll be new _Star Wars_ movie coming out soon—I might hate it.” 

Alex’s eye twitched but with great effort she managed to nod, “That’s…a good one.” 

Winn beamed. “You think so?” 

Alex nodded again, her eyes flitting momentarily up to the clock on the far wall--she'd been doing that a lot today. “Yep. Great strategy.”

It was almost 5.

Close enough to it that she could probably call it a day.

Alex had already pushed in her lab stool and shrugged off her coat by the time Winn even noticed that she was heading for the door, he'd been too absorbed in a quiet debate he'd been having with himself over the dangers of expanding a fantasy universe too far and the merits of putting his trust in Hollywood. 

“Hey, where’re you going?” He called.

Alex didn’t look back. “Home.”

It wasn't an outright lie--Alex _was_ heading home. 

But she only intended to stop there to change into something a little more-- _casual_. Then she'd be heading to the bar. 

To meet with someone she barely knew--and on terms she still didn't quite understand.

If she were honest, she had absolutely no idea what to expect. 

Her meeting with Maggie Sawyer could go terribly—or maybe turn out wonderfully.

She’d been able to think of nothing else all day. 


	40. Lena Near Her Wit's End

Kara was in exceptionally high spirits as she drove down the road toward home. She drove slowly because Julien and Walter were in the bed of the truck, laughing and spreading their arms wide to feel the wind. 

Kara kept one eye on them as she made the turn from the gravel road to the dirt, her thoughts still on Ms. Grant’s offer. She couldn’t believe her luck. 

She had already texted Alex, but she was too excited to leave it at that. She wanted to celebrate—maybe take the boys out for pizza and ice cream, meet up with Alex too.

“Krypto! Pluto!” Julien yelled as the two dogs came running toward the approaching vehicle. 

Kara slowed and parked, whistling as she jumped out of the car and zoomed over to help her boys down. 

Julien jumped down first, his legs already pumping before Kara had even set him on the ground. Walter took more care as he pulled himself up to the lip of the truck bed and wobbled there. 

“Come on, buddy—you can make it.” Kara laughed. 

Walter nodded and then closed his eyes and jumped out. Kara caught him easily and placed a kiss to the top of his head as she swept him down to the ground. Krypto had sauntered over and she licked Walter’s cheek, making the young boy cry out and hug her neck. 

“Come on, let’s get inside.” Kara called cheerily as she retrieved her tools and started across the yard. 

“But we wanna play outside!” Julien whined, rubbing at Pluto’s belly. 

“You can in a minute, but there’s something I gotta tell you all first—come on!” Kara gestured impatiently for the twins to come inside while she held the screen door open and used her hip to bump open the wooden door. 

“Miguel? Colm? Guys—are you home?” Kara called into the house as she waited for Walter and Julien to tromp up the stairs. 

“Ahhh—yeah!” Came a tentative reply.

Kara’s excitement was immediately curbed. 

She knew that tone. Miguel sounded as if he were trying to hide something.

Kara let the screen door slam and turned away from the dogs sniffing and whining, wanting to get in. Walter and Julien had run ahead and Kara dropped her tools just inside the door, her senses now on high alert.

The house felt too quiet—like it was holding its breath.

“Guys.” Kara called. “What did you do?”

“What? Nothing!” Colm answered far too quickly.

“Boys!” Kara called a little more nervously this time. “Where’s Lena?”

“Who?” Miguel called. 

Kara’s heart started beating faster and she used her super speed to dart around the half-wall barrier to get to the living room—and she pulled up short when she saw that Lena was sitting—no, lounging?—in one of the recliners. 

The four boys were gathered around her, but Lena didn’t appear to notice—or care. 

She seemed unresponsive, her eyes staring out at nothing and her arms and legs flopped out as if she’d simply collapsed and was resting with her eyes open. 

Kara frowned,

“What’s going on here?” 

Miguel and Colm both jumped and spun around, the grins on their faces poorly concealed.

“What? Nothing!” Miguel insisted quickly.

“Yeah, nothing! We’re fine. We’re great! How are you?” Colm added, nervously clasping his hands behind his back. 

“She needs food.” Julien announced from where he’d perched on the edge of the coffee table. Walter wordlessly handed his brother a small box of raisins. Julien began throwing them with poor accuracy toward Lena’s mouth.

Lena blinked slowly each time one of the raisins hit her, but otherwise didn’t react.

“Hey, Julien—cut that out.” Kara said, stepping forward to take the raisins away. 

“But it’s fun!” Julien shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Okay, enough—what did you guys do to her?” Kara demanded, rounding on her older boys. 

“What?! N-Nothing!” Colm stammered.

“Yeah, we got home from school and just found her like this.” Miguel insisted. 

“Well—how long has she been like this?” Kara asked, worry making her chew at her bottom lip. 

Com shrugged and Miguel shook his head, indicating that they didn’t know. 

“Mom—I think she’s drooling.” Walter called, squinting. 

“Eww!” Julien recoiled.

Walter leaned forward to poke Lena.

“Hey, guys, give her some air, okay.” Kara lifted Walter up unceremoniously and displaced him. 

She dropped down to her knees beside Lena and peered into her face. “Hey, Lena—are you okay?”

“I don’t think she can hear you, Mom.” Miguel said with a frown. 

“She’s broken.” Julien sad sagely. 

“No, she’s not broken—she’s just—resting, I guess. That’s okay. We can—we can let her rest.” Kara said, grasping at straws. 

“Colm—hand me that blanket.” Kara held out her hand and waited for Colm to give her the required article. Kara shook out the blanket and then carefully pulled it over Lena, doing her best to tuck it gently around her. 

“Aren’t you going to shut her eyes?” Julien asked, his blue eyes narrowing.

“Oh well—Why don’t we leave her be for a bit, okay?” Kara stood and tried to shepherd the boys away. 

“Did you see what she did to the scarecrow, Mom?” Colm asked, snickering.

Kara froze.

“No. Why? What did she do to the scarecrow?”

“She killed it, Mom—ripped the sucker’s head clean off.” Miguel answered with a wide grin, clearly delighted. 

Walter gasped and he and Julien raced to the front door to stare out through the screen toward the scarecrow in question. 

“Wow! She did!” Walter called.

“Murderer!” Julien shrieked. 

There was a soft groan and Kara spun around, relief coursing through her veins when she saw that Lena was moving—a little sluggishly, but at least she was moving! 

Lena was pulling the blanket more tightly around herself, trying to make herself small and inconspicuous inside a warm cocoon.

“Hey look, she’s waking up.” Colm said loudly. 

Julien and Walter came thundering back down the hallway.

“Really?”

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Kara shot out a hand to stop them from leaping up onto Lena. 

Lena made a soft sound and blinked her eyes once toward the gathered group of people standing in a huddle near her. Her eyes slowly focused and she blinked once--twice. 

Then she covered her head with the blanket and sunk down lower in the chair. 

“Yeah, right. She’s not waking up, Colm!” Miguel scowled at his brother.

“Well, I _thought_ she was.” Colm fired back.

“What’s for dinner? I’m starving.” Julien demanded to know. 

Kara heard Lena whimper at that and her heart twisted a little painfully. 

She turned back to the boys and clapped her hands to get their attention. 

“Okay, guys, I’ll take it from here—why don’t you go upstairs for a bit.” Kara said evenly. 

“What?! But we didn’t do anything!” Miguel protested against this injustice profusely. 

“I know you didn’t do anything, but I need to take care of Lena now—can you just go upstairs for a few minutes, please?” Kara asked tiredly.

Miguel scowled but Colm was already moving to obey. 

Kara gave Walter and Julien a bit of a nudge to send them on their way as well, knowing that Miguel would move eventually. 

“If she’s broken will you get a new one?” Julien asked, lifting his grey eyes up to Kara and tilting his head. 

“No, no—she’ll be alright.” Kara said quickly.

Miguel stomped by her and Kara reached out to ruffle his hair. 

Kara waited until she heard the door to the boys’ room slam before turning back to Lena. 

She approached hesitantly, suddenly nervous and worried at once.

“Lena? Lena, can you hear me? Are you alright?” Kara asked.

Lena groaned but made no other efforts to respond. 

Kara frowned and glanced around helplessly. 

“Do you—do you need something to eat? Or drink? Do you need some water?” Kara prodded. 

This time there was no response. 

Kara could hear Lena’s heavy breathing—fast paced and angry. She swallowed. 

“Okay, I’ll get you some water—how’s that?” 

Kara floated gracefully into the kitchen and got a glass of water as quickly as she could.

“Here, Lena—I didn’t put ice in it because I didn’t think you’d want ice, but I can get some if you need it—do you want ice?” Kara asked, standing nervously before the blanket. 

For several moments, Kara could hear nothing but Lena’s angry breathing and the boys whispering about which of their favorite movie actresses they would like to replace Lena with. 

Kara swallowed again and inched closer, “Lena?” 

There was no response. 

In fact—Kara was pretty sure Lena curled in on herself even tighter. 

Kara sighed and set the glass down on the coffee table. 

“Okay—I’m just going to leave the water here for you then. Right here—on the coffee table. If you want it all you have to do is reach out and take it—it’s right here.” Kara said as she stepped back and waited. 

When this still garnered no response, Kara began to fear once again that her offering might not be adequate. 

“Would it be better if I put ice in it? Do you want ice?” 

There was a humph from under the blanket and Kara stepped forward eagerly. 

“Go away.” 

Kara blinked, wishing that she hadn’t heard Lena. 

But even though Lena’s voice was muffled by the blanket and her soft tone—Kara had super hearing. She could hear her perfectly well. 

Kara reached up and fiddled with her glasses, her heart sinking just a little as she watched the steady rise and fall of the blanket as Lena breathed.

“Okay—you want to be alone. That’s okay. Here, I can take you to the bedroom, then.” Kara said, stepping forward. 

“Don’t touch me.” Lena growled.

Kara froze, her eyebrows coming together. 

“Lena, I only want to help.” 

“Well stop it.” Lena shot back, hugging her knees tighter to her chest and ducking her head. 

“Lena—” Kara trailed off, realizing that she wasn’t sure what else she could say to try to coax Lena out from under the blanket. 

“If you won’t let me help you, will you at least drink the water?” Kara asked. 

“No.” Lena growled stubbornly. 

“Why not?” Kara demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Because I don’t want it.” Lena shot back.

“Well what do you want?” Kara asked. 

“I want you to _leave me alone_.” Lena huffed, pulling the blanket down angrily to glare up at the _infamous wife_ Kara Danvers.

Kara couldn’t help but grin a little—Lena’s cheeks were a little rosy from being under the blanket and her dark hair was rumpled and messy. Somehow—she still looked gorgeous even when grumpy. 

“Well, there you are.” Kara said with a soft chuckle. “It’s nice to see you.” 

Lena looked taken aback for a moment, but then she rolled her eyes and pulled the blanket over her head again, turning to the side to try to signal to the _infamous wife_ that she did not want to talk anymore.

“Lena—will you please just tell me what’s wrong?” Kara asked gently. 

She stood there for several seconds, waiting for Lena to growl at her again or better yet, sit up and talk to her like an adult. 

But nothing happened. 

Lena remained in stubborn silence. 

Kara rolled her eyes and took a few steps closer. Her concern was rapidly fading—she felt like she was dealing with one of Julien’s temper tantrums. 

She reached out and tugged the blanket down. 

“Lena.” 

Lena kept her eyes squeezed shut and refused to turn toward Kara. 

Kara frowned. This was getting ridiculous. 

She nudged Lena’s shoulder. 

“Lena, come on—I know you’re not asleep.” Kara whispered. 

Lena remained faithfully unresponsive.

Kara sighed and straightened, frustration prickling along her spine. She crossed her arms over her chest and drummed her fingers along her bicep as she waited in stony silence for Lena to move. 

Minutes passed.

Kara tapped her foot a few times. 

She cleared her throat. 

She reached out tentatively and nudged the recliner with her foot, making it jolt a little. 

Still, Lena didn’t move. 

Kara huffed and her eyes darted down to the water glass sitting unobtrusively on the coffee table.

Without really thinking it through, Kara reached out with super swiftness and snatched up the glass—before dumping the contents over Lena’s head. 

Lena’s eyes immediately flew open and she sat bolt upright, sputtering as the water coursed down her face and slid down her spine. 

“What?! Kara?!” Lena bellowed, her green eyes afire with fury. 

“What’s the matter?” Kara asked innocently, hiding the glass behind her back. 

“ _What’s the matter_?!” Lena demanded, “What’s the matter?!”

“Yes. Please, tell me.” Kara said calmly as she dropped to the floor and crossed her legs, donning an air of the utmost attention. 

Lena groaned and grabbed fistfuls of her hair, still breathing heavily through her nose. 

“There are _so many_ things the matter here, Kara! I don’t belong here. I feel it—don’t you think I feel it?! Don’t _you_ feel it?!”

“Well, no—not exactly.” Kara said, glancing away briefly. 

Lena closed her eyes and pounded one fist against her forehead—trying to smash to pieces the headache that lurked up there. 

“My life is like death. My children are the spawn of hell—and _you’re_ the devil.” Lena wailed dramatically. 

Kara chuckled and set the glass down on the coffee table as she rose up on her knees to scoot closer to the distressed woman before her, 

“That does sound like a lot…” Kara reached up to brush a wet strand of hair back behind Lena’s ear, smiling. “But Lena, honey, we _like_ you.”

Lena sputtered in surprise and jerked out of Kara's reach, still looking perfectly miserable. 

Kara chewed on her lower lip and let her hand drop to the armrest of the chair, hoping to somehow show that she was willing to offer comfort if Lena would just open herself up. She didn't know what had gotten Lena so worked up--but she hoped that maybe with a little coaxing, she could fix it. 

"Do you want to tell me what's really bothering you?" Kara asked after giving Lena a moment to breathe. 

Lena squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. 

Kara sighed and pushed herself up off the floor. "Well, alright then. We all deal with our tough days in our own way, and if you want to be left alone, then--"

"I only made it to number twelve." Lena sniffled, so softly that Kara, even with her super hearing, almost missed it. 

"What?" 

Lena lifted her head, her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, "The chores--I was trying to get through the list and I only made it to twelve." 

Kara dropped to her knees again, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "What list?" 

Lena pointed weakly. 

Kara pivoted and squinted toward the kitchen, her stomach dropping a little when she caught sight of the paper stuck to the fridge--the one covered in her sister's neat scrawl. 

She supposed she had known, on some level, that the inferred purpose of this entire charade was for Lena to somehow work off the time and money Kara had lost working on her closet, but--she just hadn't realized that it might prove so difficult for her. 

That it would make Lena _cry_.

"Lena, hey," Kara caught herself wanting to reach toward Lena again and she intentionally clenched fists instead and dropped them to her sides, her mind spinning slightly when she remembered Winn's advice--telling her not to be so sunny all the time. That in order to get through this she'd have to rely on her nerves of steel--dish back some of the contempt Lena herself had thrown her way when they'd first met. 

But--that was hard to remember when Lena looked so wretched. 

Kara swallowed thickly and allowed herself only the briefest of touches--the brush of fingertips over Lena's wrist. Easily ignored if Lena chose it. 

"Lena, sweetheart, you've--only just come back from the hospital." Kara reasoned slowly, trying for a soft smile, "There's no reason for you to try to tackle all those chores at once. You're still trying to get re-acquainted with everything."

Lena turned her head slowly--and Kara's heart started pounding fiercely when she saw Lena's expression.

"I _thought_ that was the very purpose of all this." Lena said darkly, gesturing wildly toward the ceiling--or maybe just to the house in general, Kara wasn't entirely sure, "To get me back into my _routine_ so I would start to _remember_ _things_."

"Well, yes, that is--that's the hope." Kara stammered nervously. She fidgeted with her glasses, but that only seemed to frustrate Lena more.

"So then _what_ , pray tell, would I _normally_ do after slaving away all day?" Lena demanded. 

Kara tried not to squirm under Lena's stare, "Well, umm-I don't know. You would--help the boys with their homework? And, ummm, maybe cook dinner, sometimes? Have a glass of wine?" 

"I see." Lena said with a curt nod. Her green eyes were _cold_. 

After a moment of trying to convince her muscles that she was _not_ too tired to move, Lena pushed up from the chair and dropped her blanket directly into the _infamous wife_ 's lap as she swept by, resigning herself to her hellish fate. "No rest then for the wicked." 


	41. Kara Aims to Please...

Kara was drying the recliner when the boys started trickling back down the stairs. 

She’d just texted her friends to cancel a night at the bar—promising to make it up to them later. She didn't particularly feel like celebrating anymore--in fact, she wasn't really sure _what_ she was feeling now. Except maybe tired. 

The house had been quiet for some time now and the boys were too restless to stay cooped up in their room while exciting things were happening below. But when the boys finally crept into the living room, they found Kara alone—and Lena nowhere to be seen. 

“Oh Row.” Julien exclaimed first, his eyes popping. “You got rid of her.” 

Kara turned around, a frown on her lips. “What no—Lena’s fine. She just went to put on dry clothes.” 

“And it’s ‘Rao’, you goofball.” Colm corrected his brother. 

“What was wrong with her?” Miguel asked, coming into the den to flop down on the couch. 

“Nothing.” Kara said quickly, bunching up the towel to toss into the corner. “She just—had a long day.”

“Aunt Alex has those.” Walter said as he crawled up next to Miguel. “She listens to music and eats chocolate to feel better.” 

“I’m not sharing my chocolate with _her_.” Julien proclaimed, his grey eyes narrowing as he glared toward the back of the house where Lena was presumably changing out of her wet clothes.

“You don’t have to, buddy.” Kara said, reaching over to gently cuff Julien on the head. “Lena’s feeling better now—she’ll be fine.”

As she said it, Kara prayed silently to Rao over and over again that this was in fact true. 

“Mom…” Miguel hesitated and glanced down at his feet. 

Kara glanced over at him. “Yeah?” 

Miguel fiddled with the hem of his jersey and wouldn’t meet Kara’s eyes. “What’ll happen if she figures out we’re tricking her?” 

Kara was too stunned by the question to answer right away—her mind went immediately to Alex—to the memory of Alex tumbling over the side of the yacht because she’d pushed Lena just a little too far. 

“Will she leave us?” Julien asked suddenly, something in his tone betraying that despite his behavior toward his pretend mother—he did not want her to go just yet. 

“Hey, guys—this is a temporary thing, remember.” Kara said slowly, unable to handle all of their wide eyes at once. She looked down and swallowed. “Eventually, the 16 days’ll be up and it’ll be time to tell her who she really is and say goodbye.”

Kara glanced up when she heard a loud thump that she knew had not come from the dogs outside or from the boys upstairs because the boys were all sitting glumly right in front of her. 

“What was that?” Colm asked, glancing around.

“I don’t know—stay here.” Kara muttered. 

Kara walked through the house, her senses picking up on several grunts and muttered curses as she got closer to her bedroom. 

Kara hesitated before knocking and reached up to slip her glasses down just enough so she could use her x-ray vision to get a peek as to what Lena was doing—all she could see was the woman balancing precariously on the desk in the corner trying to reach something on the top of the tall tv cabinet. 

Kara took a sharp breath and shoved her glasses back up on her nose as she pushed in—her intention to knock first as a courtesy completely forgotten. 

“Lena, what—what are you doing?” Kara demanded. 

She almost stumbled over a box that she hadn’t noticed before. There were several strewn all about the room. 

It seemed that Lena had disassembled Kara’s neat stack and thrown open nearly every single one—several had had their contents dumped on the bed while the empty cardboard had been flung into the middle of the room. 

“Looking for memorabilia.” Lena said without turning her head as she reached as far as she could out across the top of the cabinet and swept her arm forward—sending everything that had been hiding up there tumbling down to the floor with a crash. 

Kara could only watch with her mouth hanging open. 

“Memora-what?”

“Oh, come on—not you too.” Lena snapped as she deftly leapt down and started gathering up the little boxes and trinkets that had been stored up and away, out of sight.

“Me too what?” Kara asked, confused. 

“There has to be _something_.” Lena said as she threw down the things in her arms and proceeded to glare down at it all gathered on the bed. “A scrapbook or photo album—something documenting our life together. There has to be something in this _junk_ that will spark a memory.”

“Lena, wait—slow down.” Kara said, panic tasting metallic and cold on her tongue. 

Several of those boxes held items she had been gifted while in National City—small tokens of thanks from the people she had saved, drawings from children who admired her and one or two keys to cities she’d saved. There was also a scrapbook that her adopted mother Eliza had meticulously made featuring all of the articles and newsstories in which she appeared. It was covered at the moment by all of the other unimportant things Lena had pulled down—candy wrappers, old magazines, empty deodorant cans, several DVDs, flashlight batteries, a lego castle that one of the boys had made, old leather keychains, a spotted grease towel and some seashells. 

“ _Don’t_ , Kara.” Lena snapped, her tone turning suddenly icy as she held up a hand. “I am not in the mood for you to turn into Alex and tell me that there is no photographic evidence of our life together because I was short and fat and camera shy.” 

“Lena, no—that’s not…” 

“There are _hundreds_ of pictures of the boys all over this house.” Lena snarled, her eyes burning. “And hundreds _more_ of you and Alex, and you and your friends, and you with people I don’t even know—but there is not a _single photo_ of me.”

“Lena, that’s—there _are_ photos of you, of us—of all of us together, I swear it, I just—I don’t know where they are. We must not have gotten to them yet.” Kara stammered--she felt off-balance. Off-center. Not five minutes ago, she'd had the strongest urge to pull Lena into her arms and hug her tight--now she wanted to get her as far away from her secrets as possible. 

“Oh, and I suppose we _just so happened_ to lose _all of my clothing and personal items_ in the move as well.” Lena snapped as she picked up yet another Metropolis University t-shirt and tossed it aside in disgust. 

“Where are my dogtags from Basic Training? Where are my service photos? Where is _my_ junk? None of this is mine—” Lena insisted as she gestured to the items on the bed. 

Kara glanced furtively to her left and almost choked when she saw that the closet door was open—that her super suit was hanging there in a see-through garment bag in plain view. 

“Oh, well, I—I don’t know, but I promise I’ll look for your stuff. We just got so caught up in the move and—” Kara started inching toward the closet, talking animatedly with her hands to try to distract a very upset and very _determined_ Lena. 

Lena’s eyes tracked Kara, her nostrils flaring, but suddenly she stiffened as if she’d been jolted and her lips parted.

“Closet.” Lena whispered. 

Kara froze. 

“What?”

“Closet.” Lena repeated as she glanced from said closet to Kara and back again. 

Her eyebrows had shot together—she seemed to recall a flash of something, like an imprint from a forgotten dream. It was something to do with a closet—a much bigger and grander closet than this—one filled with shoes. Rotating shoes?

“You and a closet.” Lena stammered, grasping for more of the faded memory. 

“That’s right—this is me and I’m standing in front of the closet.” Kara said slowly as she nudged the door closed behind her. 

“Something’s familiar.” Lena said wistfully. 

“Yeah, you’re right—you got it, we—ahhh, we chose this house because of the closet space—spent a lot of time in there, and ahhh, I told you I’d build you the best closet ever.” Kara lied. 

“Oh, stop it!” Lena snapped. “No one chooses a house because of _closets_!” 

“Lena, I know you’re grumpy.” Kara said, bringing her hands together. 

“I’m not grumpy!” Lena seethed.

“Right, okay—if you say so.” Kara said, edging away from the closet. “I have an idea—why don’t you take a break from all of this—and take a nice, relaxing bath? Doesn’t that sound nice?” 

“Not particularly.” Lena said dryly. 

“Perfect! I’ll start the water for you and then I’ll—I’ll take a turn at going through some more boxes to look for your stuff, if that’ll make you feel better.” Kara spoke with a little too much brightness. 

Lena narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

“Really?”

“Really!” Kara grinned. “You’ve just been working too hard—you just need to relax for a bit. Let me take over the search for awhile, okay? I know there are still a ton of boxes upstairs that I could go through…”

Lena seemed to consider this for a moment. 

“Okay.” Lena finally decided. 

She slid down from the bed and Kara tried not to notice that she was wearing a pair of Kara’s work-out shorts and that they hugged her curves perfectly. 

Lena crossed the room and grabbed the towel that was hanging up on the bedroom door. It smelled strongly of Kara, but as Lena had pointed out before— _nothing_ in this house seemed to be hers, so she was forced to make do. 

“I can run the water by myself.” Lena said hotly as she marched by Kara. 

“Okay, yeah—great.” Kara stammered as she followed a few steps behind. She wasn’t sure why she was following exactly, and the ridiculousness of it hit her as soon as Lena slammed the bathroom door in her face. 

Kara let out a deep breath and turned, trying to think of a way out of this mess that wouldn’t get her into more serious trouble. 

There was a sharp scream and Kara turned around quickly, preparing to kick down the bathroom door. 

Lena threw the door open, her eyes angry and still somehow dazzling.

“Get that _thing_ out of the bathtub.” Lena ordered, pointing toward the small creature waddling around in the tub. 

Kara’s face split into a grin and she turned.

“Julien! I think your Mother just found your turtle!”

There was a squeal from the front room and Julien came running, his grey eyes bright as he darted between the two women with absolutely no regard for whose feet he trod on. 

Lena jumped back a little, and lifted her eyes upward, praying once again to be released from this nightmare.

“Speedy!” Julien crooned and reached down to scoop up his runaway reptile. “I’ve been so worried about you!” 

“See, kiddo—Next time we’ll look a little harder before we call it murder, alright.” Kara laughed as the child walked out of the bathroom, cradling his pet close to his chest. 

“Thanks Mom.” Julien grinned. 

Kara chuckled, but then noticed the look on Lena’s face. She was eyeing the bathtub with something far more sinister than simple disgust. 

“What is it now?” Kara asked.

Lena’s green eyes flitted to Kara. 

“I can’t possibly bathe in there now.” Lena said simply. 

“Why not?” Kara demanded, leaning around Lena to get a better look—she could see nothing wrong with the tub—it didn’t appear suspicious to her eye, she couldn’t see turtle poop stains or anything else out of the ordinary. 

“Germs, for one thing.” Lena said darkly. 

“What? Lena, you know that’s not how salmonella is passed—”

“I’m not talking about salmonella!” Lena snapped. She threw down the towel and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m talking about the fact that there was _an animal_ in there not five seconds ago—it’s unsanitary.” 

“For the love of—” Kara bit her own words off and dropped to her knees beside the tub. She rolled back her long sleeves and reached over to the tap to flip on the water. 

“What are you doing?” Lena demanded, stepping closer. 

“I’m cleaning out the tub for you.” Kara grunted as she squirted a huge glob of her mountain spring body wash into her palm and leaned over the side of the tub to start scrubbing vigorously. She had turned the water on to scalding, but Kara couldn’t feel it. 

She ran her hands along the bottom of the tub and then up the sides, sudsing it up and scrubbing like her life depended on it, trying to burn off some of her ~~frustrated~~ nervous energy. 

The bathroom was not very large, and between all of the used towels thrown here and there, the various bottles of soaps and shampoos, the toothbrushes and used rinsing cups littered around, the bathtime toys and misplaced socks littering the floor—there was very little room for the two women. Lena stood close to Kara, keeping her arms crossed over her chest as she watched the muscles in Kara’s back flex and strain—the steam made Lena’s cheeks flush. 

Lena turned her head sharply when there was a knock on the bathroom door. 

“Mom! I have to pee!” One of the boys called. 

Kara didn’t stop. 

“Just go outside!” Kara shouted. 

Kara ran her hands under the faucet and swept water up along the sides of the tub to rinse away the suds. 

She was very aware of Lena’s close proximity and very aware that it was very steamy in the bathroom. She was also very aware that they had had no less than three heated arguments today—none of which had been resolved amicably, and many of which had been _entirely_ Lena’s fault. And yet—Kara still felt that tension between her shoulder blades—an unquenchable desire to please Lena somehow. 

Kara didn’t turn the water off until she was sure that she had washed away all of the soap from the sides and bottom. 

For several seconds she stared down at the water swirling into the drain, feeling the sweat and steam sliding over her skin. 

Her glasses had fogged up, but she could feel Lena behind her. 

“There.” Kara used the edge of the tub to brace herself as she stood up—her knees had gone a little numb. 

She turned and fixed Lena with a blue stare. “Are you happy?” 

Lena’s cheeks were pink and Kara could hear her heart beating rapidly. 

They were standing very close to one another—close enough to touch. 

Lena’s green eyes traced Kara’s face for a moment before she glanced down at the tub. 

“I suppose it will have to do.” Lena said coldly. 

Kara let out the breath she’d been holding and took off her glasses for a moment to wipe them clear on the inside of her tank top. “Good, because I—”

Kara glanced up and almost swallowed her tongue. Lena was tugging her shirt over her head—revealing more skin than Kara had yet seen.

Lena tossed aside the shirt she’d been wearing and sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. 

Kara was staring at her, her mouth open and pupils blown. 

“What?” Lena asked, rolling her shoulders back and somehow bringing her breasts that much closer to Kara’s nose—she was still wearing a bra, but she could fix that. She reached back around to unclasp it. 

“Nothing! I—enjoy your bath, I’m gonna go—look for your booxes-I mean boobs—No, Rao, No I don’t! I mean _boxes_! I’m going to look through the boxes, I’m sorry, I—” Kara yanked the door open so quickly she was pretty sure she tore it off the hinges.

“Kara?” Lena watched Kara stumbling and fumbling and raised an eyebrow. 

“I—bye!” Kara slammed the door back into its frame hard enough that somehow it stayed in place. 

She was breathing heavily and she felt an uncomfortable stab of arousal in her gut— _Rao_ , why did Lena have to make everything so difficult?!

“Mom? Are you okay?” Miguel called from the front room.

Kara somehow heard the water start again over the sound of her own lungs collapsing. 

Kara shakily reached up and ran a hand through her curls—sweat standing out on her forehead and sliding down the back of her neck. 

“Yeah, yes—I am fine. Great. I am just great.” Kara said robotically as she stepped away from the bathroom. 

It was a lie, of course. Nothing about this was okay. 

Lena wanted proof of a life that was pure fabrication and Kara didn’t know how to appease her. Her boys seemed to be rethinking the prospects of the game now that they realized at the end of it they would have to say goodbye to Lena. 

And Kara had just glimpsed more of Lena than she’d bargained for—and it somehow hadn’t been enough. 

This was getting out of hand and Kara only knew of one person who could help her fix it.


	42. When Kara Comes Knocking...Alex Drops Everything

Alex Danvers lived near the water. In an apartment that was always clean and often empty because its occupant dedicated so much time to work and family. 

But at this late hour, Kara knew Alex would be home. 

She flew over the city and touched down in the alley behind Alex’s apartment, her heart still hammering in her chest as she ran with an extra burst of speed up the fire escape to her sister’s window. 

“Alex!” Kara rapped her knuckles against the glass while she tried to catch her breath. “Alex, hurry up, I need to talk to you, I—”

Kara fell silent when she’d finally focused her senses enough to tune out the overbearing city sounds around her and realized that there was— _music_ coming from Alex’s apartment. But not the usual Blues music Kara knew her sister loved so much, it was—low and seductive. 

Kara blinked and realized that there were two hearts beating rapidly in the apartment beyond the window. 

Kara was still trying to work this out when the window suddenly shot up and Alex appeared, her cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed. 

“What do you want?” Alex demanded. It wasn’t the warm, concerned greeting Kara had been expecting.

“Alex, it’s an emergency!” Kara managed, though her nose crinkled as several unfamiliar scents billowed out of her sister’s apartment, tainting the greasy smell of pizza. 

“Who’s in there with you?” Kara asked curiously. 

“Nobody.” Alex said too quickly. 

Kara heard an immediate scoff and she raised an eyebrow as Alex cringed. 

“ _Nobody_ , huh? Well if that’s how you feel I might as well be on my way…” A low voice slid through the air and Kara’s eyes went wide. 

She knew that voice. It was a woman’s voice. Alex had a _woman_ in there—Alex had Maggie Sawyer in there.

Music. Pizza. Probably beer. Maggie Sawyer.

Alex was on a date.

Kara couldn’t hold back a gasp.

“Oh Rao—Alex, I’m sorry.”

“Maggie, no wait—hold on a second—” Alex called quickly, turning away from Kara and half-rising. 

“No, no—it’s alright. I get it. I can take a hint.” Maggie chuckled as she tugged her jacket back on and grabbed her keys. 

“Thanks for the beer. I’ll see you around, Danvers.” 

“Maggie, no, please, Kara was just leaving. Wait! I can—and she’s gone.” Alex grumbled as she reached the door just as it slammed shut. 

Alex sighed and laced her fingers together before bringing her palms up to her forehead as she paced back and forth a little—the night had begun with such promise and now she was more confused than ever. 

Kara had slipped through the window and was glancing around the room, noting the two beer bottles side by side on Alex’s ottoman—and the open pizza box with only two pieces left—pepperoni. _Rao_ , it smelled good.

“Alex, I’m really sorry—I didn’t realize you were— _busy_.” Kara stammered. 

She had to really wrestle with the urge to fly over the couch to tackle the pizza and scarf it down. Her stomach rumbled and Kara blushed—she should be more concerned with the fact that her sister, her no-nonsense, all work and only play with the nephews sister, had been on the brink of a romantic evening and Kara had ruined it rather than her own stomach. 

Alex took a sharp breath, the slightly hurt and confused expression immediately melting away behind her calm DEO expression. 

Alex turned sharply and shut off the music, startling Kara. 

“The important thing is I’m not anymore—so let’s go.” Alex called over her shoulder as she grabbed her keys from the ceramic bowl by the door and stepped out. 

“Wait! I haven’t even told you what the emergency is yet.” Kara said quickly after casting one last forlorn glance toward the pizza. 

She skipped and darted forward to keep up with Alex in the hallway. 

“Does it have to do with Lena?” Alex asked over her shoulder as she held the door open for the stairwell. 

“Yes.” Kara said carefully as she edged around her sister.

“Then it requires my immediate attention…and we’ll probably need reinforcements.” Alex said evenly as she let the door slam and started down the stairs. Kara swallowed and pushed her glasses up on her nose before tucking down her chin to follow. 

Alex lived on the fourth floor, so the descent was quick, though Kara spent the time going over the discoveries she’d just made—Maggie Sawyer had been in Alex’s apartment. There had been beer and pizza, which was casual enough, but then there had _also_ been music. Sexy music. 

Alex had been on a date with the adorable cop.

This was mind blowing for two reasons—one, Alex hadn’t been on a date in _forever_. And two—Kara had never realized that her sister had an interest in women. Not that Kara would mind, _Rao knows_ Kara only wanted Alex to be happy—with someone, man or woman, who treated her with devotion and respect—but somehow it still came as a bit of a shock. 

Kara had never truly had a preference—man, woman, alien, human—Kara had been attracted to all kinds. But Alex?

For as long as Kara could remember, Alex had only ever dated men. In high school, it had been the jocks, though never truly long enough for Kara to keep their names straight. And then in college—Kara had received texts and letters sometimes giving details or complaints about some guy or another, but Alex had never bothered to bring anyone home to meet their mother or Kara and the boys. And lately—Alex had just said that she was too busy to think about dating.

But maybe Alex just hadn’t met the right— _woman_ yet. Until now. Which was a _big deal_. 

Alex pushed out into the complex garage and didn’t bother holding the door for Kara. She stalked right over to her personal motorcycle and swung a leg over without looking back to make sure that Kara was still following close behind. 

“So—do you want to talk about it?” Kara asked, eyeing her sister. 

“About what?” Alex demanded, adjusting her side mirror. 

“You and Maggie.” Kara had thought it would be obvious. 

“Not at the moment, no.” Alex responded coolly as she tugged her helmet out of her bag. “Actually—probably not ever.”

“What? Why?” Kara asked, concerned. 

“Let’s just—focus on you for now, okay.” Alex said darkly as she held a hand up to keep Kara back. “Let’s just forget the whole thing and focus on you and Lena— _God knows_ we don’t need any more distractions.” 

Kara frowned. “Alex, wait—” 

She wanted to tell her sister that whatever was going on with her was important too—that a new romantic venture was something Kara would love to hear about. She wanted to apologize for taking up so much of—well, _everything_. Alex had dedicated her life to studying alien physiologies so she could better understand and care for her sister from outer space, and then when Kara had needed her most, Alex had put her entire career on hold to take care of Kara and the boys—Alex had been giving more and _more_ of herself to Kara and her problems, and Kara wanted to remind Alex that she was allowed to have a life of her own, to try new things and go to new places, and…love someone, a woman, _any_ woman who treated her right. 

Kara would be okay with that. 

Kara would always support her. No matter what. 

But before Kara could say any of those things, Alex revved the engine and caught Kara’s eye through her helmet visor. 

“I’ll get Schott, you get James and Lucy.”

And then Alex sped away.


	43. There's Nothing Like Superfriends' Solidarity

Kara was getting worried as she paced in the Seven/Eleven parking lot. 

Alex hadn’t shown up yet with Winn. 

And it was getting late. 

“Kara—would you like to sit down? There’s plenty of room.” Lucy said, patting the space next to her on the tailgate of James’s truck. 

Kara shook her head. 

“No—I need to think.” Kara said as she started pacing again. 

“You sure you don’t want to—wait until morning?” James asked around a yawn. He was sprawled next to Lucy, his head in her lap. 

“Guys, ‘ _emergencies_ ’ don’t get put off till morning.” Kara said with a bit of an edge.

“Okay, okay, but maybe you could fill us in while we wait for—” Lucy trailed off as the unmistakable roar of an engine was heard. 

Kara lifted a few feet into the air so she could see over James’s truck and her heart let out a sigh of relief. 

Alex pulled into the parking lot, tense and speeding while Winn held on for dear life, his eyes wide and terrified. 

“Hey, they’re here.” Lucy murmured to James, pecking his nose. 

James sighed and grunted as he sat up, stretching. 

Kara hurried around the truck to get to her sister and friend all the faster, hands fisted into her hips. 

“What took you so long?” Kara demanded as Alex parked and knocked down her kickstand. 

“ _Someone_ didn’t want to get out of bed.” Alex said with a shrug as she pulled off her helmet and tossed her hair out of her eyes.

Winn was still clutching Alex’s shoulders tightly, his fingers digging into her flesh. 

“Winn—let go.” Alex growled, shaking the Schott boy off. 

Winn tumbled over to one side and Kara moved quickly to catch him before he hit the pavement. 

“I would just like to say—that _somebody had better be dead_!” Winn shouted. “I was in the middle of the best dream—”

“You’re not the only one, Schott. Shut up.” Alex growled, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Alright, we get it, it’s very late and we’re _all_ super grumpy.” Lucy said, cutting over Alex’s angry voice and shooting Winn a glare. “Kara—why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”

“Right, okay.” Kara nodded, giving Lucy a grateful look. 

“So—Lena kind of had a freak out today.” Kara began. 

“What kind of freak out?” Winn asked, fiddling with his hoodie strings. 

“I don’t know—when I got home she was just kind of—passed out? She was just staring into space and lying there like she’d overworked herself or something…”

Alex cleared her throat and glanced over the roof of the gas station toward the stars, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket and blatantly ignoring the wry _knowing_ look Kara was giving her. 

“And then she wouldn’t tell me what was wrong so we—kinda had a sort of fight, I guess? I don’t know—the point is, after that she went into the bedroom and started tearing through boxes looking for memorabilia…she’s noticed that there are pictures up all over the house and she’s not in any of them and that there aren’t any—well, she called it junk…”

“Junk?” James repeated, still blinking against the haze of sleep. 

“Yes, exactly. Postcards. Dogtags. Stuff from her high school days, I guess—she’s starting to notice that everything in that house is either mine or meant for children 3 and up.” Kara explained. 

“God, Kara—just tell her that it all got lost in the move.” Alex groused, pinching at the bridge of her nose. 

“Yeah, Alex because that’s not suspicious.” Lucy said dryly. 

“Well then what would you suggest, Lane?” Alex demanded with an unnecessary degree of hostility. 

Kara glanced sharply at Alex, her concern flaring up again. 

Lucy didn’t seem phased, though she did frown slightly. 

“Well, for starters, I’d gather together a few Navy sweaters and stick them in a box, along with at least a set of dress whites and blue cammys because even a Petty Officer would have kept those.” Lucy said with a shrug. 

“Great. And where exactly are we supposed to get that?” Alex demanded. 

Lucy cocked her head to one side as she eyed her friend up and down, noting some tension that hadn’t been there the last time they’d seen each other. “I mean—if you asked nicely I’m sure I could rustle something up— _I_ may not be Navy, but I _do_ know people.”

“Great—James, do you think you could work with Lucy to replicate a few service photos…and…I don’t know…my wedding?” Kara asked, her lips pressing together in the slightest pout. 

“Well, I—I mean, I _could try_ , but I don’t usually tamper with my photos, Kara, you know that. I enhance and touch up, but I don’t do—photoshop or whatever it is that Winn does.” James said as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I am hurt.” Winn feigned pain as he glowered at his friend. “I am capable of _so much mor_ e than just ‘photoshop’, James. I’ll have you know—”

“I need you to take care of the documents, Winn.” Kara cut in before Winn got carried away listing all of his skills. 

“Whoa, wait—documents? What documents?” Winn demanded, paling slightly. 

“Ummm— _all_ of them.” Kara said with an exasperated eye roll. “It’s simple really—you and Alex told Lena that she grew up in Goober, Idaho, joined the Navy, and then married me. That’s what we have to work with. Lucy said she can get some Navy paraphernalia and I love you, Winn, but Lena just didn’t buy that photo you showed her in the hospital, so I need James to fake some wedding photos for me—”

“Hey, I was working on the fly.” Winn defended. “If you want _real_ photos, all you have to do is _ask_.”

Kara groaned and rubbed at her forehead. “If you have time after you fabricate her Driver’s License and her school history and her dogtags, be my guest for getting me some decent candid photos.”

Winn caught James’s eye and his expression darkened into a playful challenge. “Oh, it is _on_ , Olsen—I bet my pics will be ten times better than yours.”

“Not everything’s a competition.” James said smoothly, slipping his hands into his pockets. 

“We’ll see.” Winn cackled, his eyes lighting up.

“Guys, come on—this is serious. It has to be _perfect_.” Kara begged.

“Relax, Kara—we got this.” Lucy said with a smile as she reached out to run a hand lightly down Kara’s arm. 

“I do have one question.” Alex finally spoke up. 

She was frowning. In the dark her red hair looked almost velvet.

“What?” Kara asked, turning. 

“What are you and I going to do?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve given everyone else a job—”

“We’ve got the personal effects.” Kara said grimly. “One or two mementoes from childhood—those postcards you mentioned…”

“And by _when_ exactly are we supposed to have all of this stuff ready?” Alex asked icily.

Kara frowned and glanced up at the sky, her heart sinking a little. 

“Well—ideally by tomorrow morning, but I can try to stall for a day or two if I have to.” Kara finished quickly when every single one of her friends let out a groan.

“Kara—what you’re asking for is impossible.” Winn sighed.

“I know, I know—I’m sorry.” Kara sighed, glancing down

“But that doesn’t mean we won’t try.” James said, stepping forward to wrap an arm around Kara comfortingly. 

“Yeah, exactly.” Lucy agreed stepping in as well and opening an arm to Alex. 

Alex came a little slowly, and Lucy’s frown deepened. 

Winn was the last to join, as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and shook his head when Kara caught his eye and grinned, making grabby motions for him. 

“No—no, you don’t get to do the pout and just expect that we’ll just cave like this every time—” 

“Just shut up and get over here, Schott.” Alex called over Kara’s head. 

“Okay, fine, but for the record this will be like the thirtieth favor that I’m doing for you and it’s getting a little ridiculous.” Winn muttered as he stepped into the group and snuggled in once he realized how warm it was. 

“Hey, there’s no limit to the favors we do for friends.” James chided sagely. 

“And just remember that if we do get caught it’s Alex’s ass on the line, not yours—so there’s no need to worry!” Lucy exclaimed excitedly. 

Alex frowned as the others laughed, but it wasn’t a deep frown. 

It was just a passing discontent. It would fade.


	44. Day 2: The Irrefutable Evidence...

Once again Lena was cruelly dragged from her unpleasant dreams into the all too visceral nightmare of her life in the Danvers household by an unnatural racket. 

This time, the noise seemed to be coming from somewhere up above—the roof maybe?

Lena sighed and lifted her head to glare at the sunflowers that were rather beaten and droopy and somehow not yet dead in their little vase on the windowsill. 

There was another crash from somewhere high in the eaves, and a dog barked. 

Lena gritted her teeth and threw back the blankets that had been keeping her snug and carefully dropped her feet to the wood floors—there were rugs here and there, but one could never be too careful. Lena did not want to start her day with another splinter. 

Out in the hall, Lena could hear the ticking of several clocks and the snoring of one of the giant beasts on the couch—a dog, not one of the children. 

Lena bit her lower lip and did her best to move swiftly down the hall and through the kitchen to get to the stairs. She had not yet ventured up to the second floor, and her heart started pounding in fear as she drew nearer and nearer the domain of the four ruffians who clearly ran this household. 

Lena made a face when she saw the mud tracked all the way up the stairs, going deep into the ratty carpet. There were marbles and little foam Nerf bullets everywhere—and several little green army men. 

Lena was careful with each step. 

At the top of the stairs there seemed to be a collection of various sporting balls all lined along the railing—several basketballs and footballs and at least one bowling ball. Lena was not proficient in such things so they appeared alien to her. 

She hurried into the hall, taking a sharp breath. 

There were drawings and red markings all along the walls—and five doors. Two at each end of the hall, and one that looked--older. Not quite the same. 

One door was closed with a clear—Keep OUT sign tacked up at eye level, but directly across the hall, it's opposite was door was open, and Lena could see inside a large room—the boys were all there, sleeping in the most peculiar places. Lena heard a soft scratching sound and glanced down to see that obnoxious turtle slowly making its way across the messy floor toward the exit and she hurried away, passed the other two closed doors and toward the one that looked like it belonged in the basement of some medieval structure. 

Lena paused and tugged at the hem of the sweater she had worn to bed—one of those Metropolis University sweaters that she’d found in the closet. It was one of the few articles of clothing that she’d managed to find in there that had been folded and stacked on a shelf rather than simply thrown about. 

Lena gathered her courage and knocked gently on the wooden door. 

“Kara—” The name was pushed out of her throat when her heart leapt up high—the door had creaked open at the softest touch. Lena swallowed and tried to ignore her panic as she peeked around the door.

It did not lead to a room, but to a stairway. A rickety stairway leading straight up. 

Lena frowned and started to pull the door closed again, but then she heard an unmistakable grunt from up above and she simply couldn’t let it go. Lena pushed the door open and stepped into the narrow passage. The stairs were so steep it was like a ladder—and it took Lena a few moments to figure out how exactly to place her feet on the thin boards. 

Eventually, Lena found herself climbing up a few feet to a kind of loft—an attic that stretched from one end of the house to the other, roomy enough that Lena could stand to her full height—and with enough light streaming in through the eaves and a circular window at one end to make Lena blink rapidly several times. 

“Kara?” Lena called, turning her head to spare her tired eyes from a particularly intrusive ray of golden light. 

“Oh, Lena—hey! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Kara called from somewhere where the light was brightest. 

Lena held up a hand to shade her eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Lena demanded.

“Oh, nothing.” Kara’s voice was once again far too cheery for Lena’s taste. 

“I thought I’d take a look at a few of these boxes before work—don’t know when I’ll get the time again.” Kara said as she pushed a box back against the wall. 

“So far I’ve found Christmas lights and one of the busted playpens—”

“Is this human blood?” Lena asked, her eyes widening as she stared down into the box she had idly opened—she was starting to wish she hadn’t.

“What—no! Golly, Lena, that’s just some old Halloween props—last year the boys were really into vampires.” Kara laughed as she jogged over. 

It was far too early for Lena to handle this—Kara walking toward her as if she’d literally just stepped down from heaven, all bathed and embraced in the most beautiful golden light and looking too perfect to be real with her hair pulled up in a messy bun and her muscular arms on full display. 

Lena wouldn’t have minded so much if she herself didn’t feel so—gritty and _un_ beautiful at this hour. 

She knew her hair was a mess and nowhere in this house had she found any make-up, so she knew her face looked dreadful. And she was still nursing her wounded pride—the memory of Kara fleeing from her last night after the bathtub debacle. It made her feel more than ever that there was a chasm several thousand leagues wide between them, an unbreachable divide. 

If Kara was an early morning goddess, Lena was basically a night owl that had fallen into a briar patch and rumpled all of her feathers. 

“Here, why don’t you look over here and I’ll keep looking in this corner.” Kara suggested as she took Lena’s hand and tugged her toward a stack of mismatched boxes that were covered in duct tape and water stains as if they too had been dragged through a briar patch of sorts. 

“Oh—okay.” Lena somehow managed to speak after registering Kara’s warm touch. 

Lena absently tugged at one of the cardboard flaps of a box that was clearly labeled ‘kitchen towels’. The box was taped down very well, and Lena just stood there for several moments staring down at it, tugging experimentally every once in awhile while her mind went again and again to the brief feel of Kara’s fingers over hers—to the way the light had somehow been caught not in the lenses of her glasses, but in the deep blue of her eyes as she smiled at Lena. 

“Oh my gosh, Lena! Look!” Kara’s voice suddenly called Lena back from her fantasies and she turned, once again having to shade her eyes to see that Kara was straining to shove a rather large box toward her. 

“What is it?” Lena asked disinterestedly. She was staring at the sweat that had gathered along Kara’s collarbone. 

“It has your name on it!” Kara beamed, gesturing proudly like a circus showman. 

Lena’s eyes dropped away from Kara’s golden form to the box. Her nose crinkled slightly. 

“So it does.” Lena said dully. 

“Well gosh—don’t you want to know what’s inside?” Kara prodded, still grinning. 

Lena sighed. “I suppose so—”

“Well come on, then!” Kara chuckled, once again taking Lena’s hand and pulling her closer. 

Kara gestured toward the box and stepped back, still smiling and squirming like an excited puppy as she waited for Lena to open the box. 

Lena swallowed and turned to it. 

She picked at the tape on the sides, and Kara let out an exasperated sigh as she stepped forward and ripped the flaps open without much fanfare. Lena took a sharp breath—but her eyes were on the muscles that had just popped and rolled.

“Wow, Lena, look!” Kara cried, tossing away the bent and torn cardboard. 

Lena reluctantly tore her eyes away from Kara’s glorious body to gaze down at the contents of the box. Her eyes immediately narrowed and she took her lower lip between her teeth. 

“What is—what?” Lena leaned closer and tugged out the first item—a rather heavy knitted blanket. Lena shook the blanket out and stared at it—the United States Navy seal was prominently displayed in the center while the words, ‘welcome home’ had been stitched in white along the bottom. 

“Yeah, an aunt or somebody had that made for you—we used to keep it over the back of the couch.” Kara said. 

Lena was hardly listening. 

She was reaching into the box again, running a finger along the soft edges of a Navy sweatshirt—there appeared to be at least fifteen folded and stacked on top of a shiny pair of black boots—and in a clear plastic bag tucked against the side of the box were uniforms, one white and one blue. There were books and postcards along the bottom too—manuals and what looked like a book on tying knots. 

“Look, Lena—this one was my favorite.” Kara grinned as she reached into the box to tug out one of the shirts in the middle of the pile, completely offsetting the neat stack. She had tugged out the only one with a splash of color—Lena’s lip curled. It was a horrible shade of _pink_ —and the ridiculously curvy font was impossible to read, though Lena suspected it said something simple like ‘Navy’—but the worst part was the animated seal that appeared beneath the words—it was horrible and smiling and winking and it was _green_. Pink and Green. 

“Get it—it’s a _Navy seal_.” Kara giggled. “I mean, you weren’t… _obviously,_ but it’s so cute!”

_These are not mine._ Lena thought desperately as she leaned over the side of the box and tried to restack the sweaters. _I was not in the Navy. These can’t be mine!_

Lena froze when something clattered to the bottom of the box, slipping out from a sleeve or something. 

She dropped the sweaters and t-shirts to reach down and take up the set of dog tags that glinted in the morning light. 

Lena’s stomach twisted into knots as she turned the minted metal over and over in her hands. _Lena Goolihy_. They clearly said _Lena Goolihy_.

_I’m a serial number._ Lena thought miserably as she tossed the dogtags back into the box and dropped down to the floor in a huff.

“Wait, wait—there were some others…” Kara seemed to remember and she darted away, back into the light. 

Kara went back to her corner and retrieved the boxes she had just put in place less than twenty minutes ago. Lucy had really gone above and beyond, and Kara was in good spirits—but she did cringe a little as she glanced down at James’s offering—she hadn’t had a chance to peek at it yet herself. 

“Lena, look—this was hiding under that box of china.” Kara said excitedly as she plopped down beside the green-eyed woman. 

“Oh, goody.” Lena muttered. 

She grunted when Kara dropped something heavy in her lap. 

She glanced down and felt the breath leave her body—it was a photo album. 

A very special photo album. It was white, with a small cut out on the front cover—a photo of two hands reaching for each other. 

In gold was engraved, _Our Wedding_. 

Lena sat up straighter, her heart pounding. 

She reached up to brush the hair from her eyes and her hands shook as she carefully pulled back the front cover—the title page simply listed their names and a date that sparked no significance for Lena.

“Were we married in Metropolis?” Lena asked eagerly as she turned the title page over and was confronted with the first spread of pictures. 

She felt her heart sink a little when she saw that they were mostly establishing shots—a zipper being pulled down to reveal a lacy white dress in a garment bag on a hanger labeled ‘Kara’, a black and white photo of a beautiful gazebo, another black and white photo of several rows of wooden chairs set before the wooden structure, a close up of the wedding cake topper—and the back of a dark haired woman’s head as she peeked around a door toward an indistinct white blob in the distance. 

Kara had glanced at the pictures, but she was more concerned with Lena—she was watching her face carefully, not daring to breathe. 

“Is that supposed to be me?” Lena demanded, glaring down at the pictures that were ambiguous as hell. 

“Of course it’s you—don’t you remember? These are all from that morning…James was our photographer and he took a lot of ‘before’ shots—and he caught you trying to sneak a peek—” Kara lied, hoping that Lena wouldn’t notice how disjointed the sentences sounded as she spoke them aloud. 

“Isn’t it common knowledge that one look upon one’s bride before the wedding brings bad luck?” Lena asked, furious with herself as she glared at the back of her head in the picture. 

“Yeah, but you couldn’t wait.” Kara shrugged.

She breathed a little easier when Lena turned the page.

Kara could tell immediately that these were doctored up stock images of people attending a wedding—she did not recognize a single person—except for a photo that James had added of Eliza standing behind the guest registry—it had clearly once been a podium.

Lena let out a huff and turned the page—only to find even more establishing shots of the guests in their chairs and shots of jewelry in curly blonde hair and a veil over a face that was as indistinct as all the others. 

Lena turned the page again—and again—and again until she finally landed on a page that featured _someone_ walking down the aisle. 

Lena squinted and leaned closer. It certainly could have been her—raven black hair up in a bun studded with diamonds and pale shoulder blades visible, but the head was turned _just enough_ with one hand raised at _just the right angle_ to prevent Lena from glimpsing the nose or eyes—only a wide smile. 

“You really were stunning.” Kara breathed, thanking Rao above for James’s expertise. 

“And who is that on the other side of me?” Lena demanded, pointing to the half a face that was visible—a rather square face and grey hair, a man’s scowl.

“Your captain.” Kara said quickly.

“My _captain_?” Lena spat, looking once again at the photo.

“Yes. Captain Smith.” Kara responded nervously—for some reason her mind had gone straight to the _Titanic_. “He was like a father to you, Lena.” 

Lena made a face and turned the page, letting out a growl when she saw that the next page featured a wide shot—one to encapsulate all of the chairs and the gazebo—and the two women in white before it. But all of the figures were so small, Lena could distinguish no characteristics whatsoever. 

“Now that’s just cheating.” Lena grumbled.

“What?” Kara asked nervously.

“Nothing.” Lena sighed as she turned the page—

Her heart leapt for a moment when she saw that there was a rather large photo front and center of two women kissing—a blonde and a woman with raven hair, much like Lena—but they had angled their faces such that Lena still couldn’t tell _definitively_ if it was Kara or not. It certainly _looked_ like Kara. The hair was soft and golden and there were so many curls. And it also looked like herself, with several diamond studs in the left ear that was visible and a mole on the neck that Lena saw every morning in the mirror but—

But Lena was still suspicious. 

“I was so nervous.” Kara supplied—getting a little uncomfortable in the silence. “I kissed you twice.” 

Lena rolled her eyes and turned the page. 

Kara’s heart stopped.

The two pictures on the next pages were close-ups, no more underhanded tactics or out of focus shots—it was clearly Kara in one photo, beaming with her hair down and a tint of red smeared over her lips that very well could have been lipstick--but it was probably koolaid. And the other was very clearly Lena. Though her picture had been touched with a dash of red on the cheek rather than the lips, and her smile was not wide enough to reveal her teeth. 

Both pictures appeared high on their respective pages, while down below were two hands reaching toward the center fold, both sporting diamond rings. 

Kara glanced up furtively at Lena—waiting for her to point out that her black and white photo was a little _too clean_ and _too perfect_ to be genuine…but Lena said nothing. 

She simply bit her lower lip and turned the page. 

Kara felt her stomach drop—this was what she’d been afraid of. The customary staged pictures. 

The ones every couple took after the ceremony, of the two together—with family, with parents, with the officiant, with the wedding party—there were so many. 

Kara groaned when she recognized the very first one—it was clearly a touched up version of a picture taken at her going away party at the DEO in Metropolis--one in which Kara had been wearing her supersuit and everyone else had been goofing off around her as she stood with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face—somehow, James had managed to stretch her arms just enough to make it seem she held a bouquet of flowers at her middle, but he had done very little about the ridiculous poses of her coworkers. Alex and J’onn stood with their backs to each other, pouty expressions on their faces, while James and Winn posed on the floor at her feet—it was certainly not wedding formal.

But truly—that was nothing compared to the picture that next caught Kara’s eye—

James had clearly reused the pictures taken of Lena at the hospital. 

“It’s my wedding day. Why do I look so annoyed?” Lena demanded, staring at the unflattering picture. 

“Well, ahhh—Alex and some of the others got a little drunk at the reception, see?” Kara pointed to the picture of herself and the gang, hoping that Lena wouldn’t question it. “And, you had specifically told them not to spike the punch, so, you weren’t very happy about that and then ummm—some of your Navy friends started throwing potato salad around and my mom was still trying to get everyone in line for pictures…” Kara made all of this up on the spot when she saw how out of focus and shaky some of the next few photos were—especially the ones that appeared _grainy_. She supposed those might be white rose petals dotted everywhere, but it mostly looked like gobs of potato salad to Kara. 

Lena sighed and shut the album, dropping it to the floor beside her as she reached up to rub at her temples. 

“Oh, here—look, Lena—it says Important Documents.” Kara nudged Lena’s knee with the packet Winn had dropped by. 

Lena sighed and took up the packet—it was rather weighty. As she turned it, a photo slid out and Lena frowned when she picked it up. 

“But why do I always have this depressed look on my face?” Lena demanded as she stared at herself in her naval uniform. 

“Well—you had been hoping to get stationed on the east coast, but—they shipped you out to—Alaska right away and you weren’t happy about it.” Kara lied. 

Lena rolled her eyes and untied the strings that kept the thick folder closed. She opened it slowly and frowned at the first thing she saw. 

“Yes, but was I _always_ so unhappy?” Lena demanded as she picked up the driver’s license that sat on top of several papers. 

Kara’s eye twitched. 

Winn had also reused one of the pictures that had been taken of Lena while she’d been at the Psych Ward—the one where one eye was half open and the other closed and her mouth was twisted as if she were speaking. 

“You were…I mean, the last time you renewed your license you were grumpy a lot. We’d just decided to move and you didn’t see why you needed a new license just because we were crossing state lines.” Kara said, fiddling with her glasses. 

“Well that explains it.” Lena muttered as she slid the driver’s license aside to stare down at the life insurance policy that was beneath it. 

Lena frowned and flipped through the papers, scanning them one by one. 

On every state document, every resume—her photos seemed a variation of that same pained expression, her lips twisted in an unpleasant fashion. 

“Was I always this miserable? Wasn’t I ever happy?” Lena asked when she got to a diploma at the back from Goober High School—one with a photo attached of her in a cap and gown standing next to someone she presumed was the principal.

“What—of course, Lena. You were happy all the time. You were the happiest wife and mother around!” Kara said quickly, hoping that Lena wouldn’t hear the squeak in her voice. 

Lena’s frown deepened as she set down the packet to pick up the wedding album again. 

“Hmmm.” Lena hummed, eyeing the picture of a smiling Kara. 

She flipped backward to the indistinct photo of the two women kissing. “We were happy, I suppose.” 

“Yes, exactly.” Kara nodded. 

Lena turned the page again to the happy Kara with lipstick on her face and her lips twitched. 

“But we’re not anymore.” 

“What?! Lena, what—what are you talking about?” Kara sputtered, her eyes boggling. 

Lena sighed and leaned her head back to stare up at the eaves of the house, up beyond the golden light to the dark places—the shadows.

“You said I was so excited on our wedding day that I risked an eternity of misfortune just to catch a glimpse of you for myself before the ceremony.” Lena began with a dramatic tint of melancholy to her tone, “And you _also_ said that you were so nervous that you kissed me twice at the altar.”

“Yeah—so?” Kara asked, nervousness making her cheeks feel hot. 

“We were happy then.” Lena explained gesturing toward the picture of the two women kissing. “But last night you ran away when you saw my boobs.” 

“What?! Lena, that’s—I—” Kara’s cheeks had turned blood red and she couldn’t seem to remember how to speak in more than stops and starts. 

“It’s okay.” Lena sighed, closing the album once again. “I understand. I’m not who I used to be—Besides, brain injuries change all sorts of things. Maybe I wouldn’t even be able to satisfy you like I used to.” 

“Lena!” Kara squeaked, a terrible choking noise emanating from her throat. 

“Or maybe…” Lena’s eyes welled with tears and she sniffled. “Maybe you preferred me like that—like how I was before. _Short_ and _fat_ and…and _slutty_.” 

Lena dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. 

Kara didn’t react for several seconds. 

The blood was pounding in her ears and she was fairly certain that her brain had short-circuited. 

For several seconds, she tried to get the words to come, but failed. She could only watch helplessly as Lena fell apart. 

But Kara wasn’t cruel. 

And the Revenge might have been born of malice, but Kara couldn’t let it go so far as to break Lena down completely. 

Kara swallowed and scooted closer. 

She reached out without hesitation and wrapped her arms around Lena—for once acting without the complications of lies. This was simple—Lena was hurting and Kara wanted to help. 

That was all there was too it. 

“Lena.” Kara whispered, rubbing soothing circles into Lena’s back. 

Lena didn’t respond exactly. She simply clutched Kara’s arms and cried harder. 

“Lena, it’s alright. It’s alright, honey, I promise. It’s going to be alright.” Kara soothed.

Lena finally hiccupped and pulled herself back together. She sat back away from Kara and wiped at her eyes as she brushed her hair away from her eyes in a graceful motion that was pure muscle memory. 

“I’m fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to unburden myself like that—”

“Lena, it’s okay.” Kara said gently. She reached over to wipe away a stray tear with her thumb. “Just…maybe don’t listen to Alex so much when it comes to remembering stuff. She means well, but she also likes to tease you.” 

“Funny enough I picked up on that.” Lena mumbled, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring down at the floorboards. 

Kara studied Lena for a moment and then carefully opened one of the smaller boxes she had brought over. 

“I—I don’t know if it’ll help but—this little guy used to always make you feel better.” Kara said quietly as she offered Lena a plush dolphin. It was light blue and grey and even green. The colors of the sea. 

Lena didn’t even turn toward Kara. 

She just snatched up the soft object and buried her nose in it, squeezing it tight to her chest. 

Kara looked startled at first, but then she relaxed and reached up to adjust her glasses again. 

“And—I know you said you want to remember for yourself now, but—if you do have questions…you can always ask _me_.” Kara offered.

Lena sniffled, but didn’t take Kara up on her offer. 

Kara opened her mouth and then closed it. 

She considered reaching out again to touch Lena’s arm or maybe run a hand through her hair, but just then she heard the crunching of tires on gravel and her face paled—though her earlier blush had been deep enough that there remained a flush of pink to her cheeks. 

“Golly, oh my—I’m sorry, Lena, I completely lost track of—”

The first honk from the school bus cut Kara off, but the woman was already on her feet, leaping over one of the large boxes to get to the stairs as quickly as humanly possible. 

“We’ll talk some more tonight, I promise, I just have to—Boys! Boys, get up, oh my gosh, we’re late! Miguel! Colm! You’re late, come on—the bus is here, hurry!” Kara shouted as she zoomed through the house, trying to perform too many tasks even for a Kryptonian. 

There were crashes and curses from the nursery, but Lena wasn’t moved. 

She sniffled and sat back again, pulling her stuffed dolphin close to her chest as she ignored the sounds of chaos coming from below and once again turned to the picture of Kara’s smiling face in the wedding album. 

The bus honked incessantly and Lena heard the kind of curse words that should make a sailor blush coming from the two boys who were stubbing toes and forgetting lunches as they raced outside. 

Kara wasn’t cursing, but Lena could hear her also bumping into things and shouting to be heard above the dogs who had started barking to top it all off. 

“I suppose I belong here.” Lena sighed as she looked around again at the attic. “In this _hovel_.” 

She cringed when the bus honked again, five short blasts. 

“Son of a bitch!” One of the boys shouted.

“With them. The demons.” Lena rolled her eyes when she heard one of the twins start to cry. She pulled her soft dolphin closer to her side. 

“Well…” Lena glanced down at the picture of Kara and traced the wide smile on her lips.

“At least I married well.”


	45. A Luthor and A Super on the Case

Halfway across the world, off the Spanish coast, the _Immaculata_ was enjoying a peaceful afternoon. 

Crewmen stood at attention, holding aloft golden and red umbrellas over their master and his many consorts who had come aboard to sample the wine and cheeses and fruit that many crewmen in uniforms far too crisp and hot for the weather held at the ready.

Several of the women had moved toward the bow of the ship, lounging on deck chairs as they lathered each other up in sunblock and fanned themselves lazily. 

Maxwell’s eyes were never still, he took pleasure in all of it—the glamour, the girls, the paradise. It was glorious. 

Heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs, and Andrew the butler appeared, looking slightly disheveled. 

“My Lord…” Andrew said uneasily. 

Maxwell waved a hand flippantly as one of his consorts dangled a strawberry over his mouth and slowly let it drop lower and lower. 

“Not now, Andrew, I’m busy.” Maxwell called, grinning.

“What’s your name again?” Maxwell asked as he accepted the strawberry and kissed the fingers that fed him. 

“Veronica Sinclaire.” The woman responded easily.

“Veronica…I love it.” Maxwell hummed.

“And I love money.” Veronica quipped back, smiling. 

“Well that’s lucky—because I’m very virile.” Maxwell said in a low voice. He kissed her hand. “And _very_ rich.” 

“My Lord.” Andrew called once more, sterner. 

Maxwell huffed and with difficulty sat up, tipping his sunglasses down so he could glare at his manservant. 

“ _What_?” 

“Phone call, my Lord.” Andrew answered calmly. 

The crewmen exchanged nervous glances. 

“Well, if it’s my blasted brother-in-law again just tell him I’m not here!” Maxwell ordered, tossing himself back into his deck chair petulantly. 

Andrew sighed and turned to go back down belowdecks where it was much cooler. 

The old man’s feet shuffled as he made his way down the hallway to the small closet where Mrs. Lord had stored her things—and the yacht phone. 

Andrew sat down creakily on the small cot and took up the receiver. 

“I’m sorry, sir, it appears that Mr. Lord is unavailable at the moment.” Andrew spoke into the phone. 

“Andrew—you know who this is.” A tight voice oozed through the phone. “You know I don’t want to talk to _Mr._ Lord.”

“They’re not here, sir. They’ve gone…shopping.” Andrew said quickly.

“Andrew—put Helena on the phone. Now.” Lex said icily. 

“Try again soon, sir.” Andrew suggested as he smashed the receiver down, ending the call. 

On the other end of the conversation, Lex Luthor pulled the phone slowly away from his ear and stared at it as the dial tone sounded long and loud. 

Slowly, he relaxed his grip and carefully set the phone back on the hook. 

For a moment, Lex Luthor continued to sit pensively at his desk, his hands spread wide. 

He drummed his fingers once. Twice. 

Lex reached out and took up the phone once more. He dialed a number so familiar to the device that the number pads were a little worn. 

Lex waited while the phone rang. 

“Lex, darling—I was hoping you’d call soon.” An excited voice answered. 

“Yes, hello, Mother.” Lex responded with a degree of warmth, but not much. His concern schooled his tone. “Listen, I can’t talk long. I wanted to let you know that I believe something terrible has happened to Lee and I’m going to find out what.” 

“Oh, Lex…” Lillian Luthor groaned. 

“Don’t say that you’re sure everything’s fine because I’ve been calling her every day for over a week and every day she’s conveniently unavailable.” Lex said sharply. 

“I’m sure she’s just locked herself in one of the labs again, your sister does have a tendency to overinvest in her projects to avoid—”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Mother.” Lex cut in. “I know something’s wrong. I can feel it. And I just thought I would call to let you know that I am going to do everything in my power to find out what.” 

“Dearest Lex—if you’re truly worried, why don’t you send Taylor to investigate?” 

“This isn’t a job for Dad’s old private eye, Mother.” Lex insisted as he dropped his forehead into his hands. “I was thinking the Marines. Black Ops and Coast Guard. Calling in one or two favors with the Mob.”

“Alexander Luthor!” Lillian shrieked. “I understand you want to look out for your sister, but that is a little excessive, don’t you think?”

“Good evening, Mother.” Lex said lightly as he hung the phone up once more. 

For several moments Lex stared menacingly across the room, despising the fact that the word ‘excess’ was now circling around in his brilliant mind. 

Lex Luthor was not a man of many scruples. He would move heaven and hell for his baby sister—but he also didn’t want her to get swallowed up in the seismic shift. 

Perhaps his mother was right. Perhaps mobilizing _all_ of his assets was risky—what if Maxwell saw the choppers and tried to flee? 

Would Lex’s buffoon of a brother-in-law think the excessive force constituted an act of war? 

Lex grunted and stood. 

He pushed away from the desk. His shadow stretched across the large study, of decent size for the owner of such a prosperous business empire. 

Lex crossed the study to go to his liquor cabinet beneath a very large portrait of his predecessor and father—Lionel Luthor. 

Lex dropped to his knees and produced a bottle of bourbon. He studied the label for a moment and then straightened. 

He retrieved two tumblers and went back to his desk. 

Lex sat down heavily and carefully placed the tumblers. He fiddled for a moment with the bottle—but didn’t open it just yet. 

He knew he was stalling, and Luthors don’t stall. 

Lex sighed and reached down to pull open his right hand drawer—the one most immediate. Inside were several confidential documents, but he did not bother with them. Lex simply set them aside and then removed the false bottom of the drawer. 

Then he hesitated. 

He stared for several seconds at the nondescript button set into the wood. 

He had never been tempted before to press the button, to ask for help—but then again Lex had never felt so helpless before. 

Lex finally took a sharp breath and squared his shoulders. He reached out and pressed the button and then sat back. 

For a moment, nothing happened. 

Lex let out the breath he’d been holding and reached for the bourbon. 

“Mr. Luthor. Is everything alright?” 

Lex glanced up at the silhouette at his window—a man in a cape with his hands fisted into his hips. 

“Superman—come in.” Lex gestured toward the spacious study and Superman touched down, stepping over to the desk. 

“Care for a drink?” Lex asked, moving to fill the second tumbler. 

“I don’t drink and fly.” Superman said steadily. 

Lex nodded and capped the bottle.

“I can respect that.” He muttered. 

“Luthor—what’s wrong?” Superman ventured, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.

Lex sighed and stood. He took up his tumbler, but didn’t drink from it. He swirled the alcohol around slowly and kept his eyes down. 

“I—I need your help.” Lex admitted with difficulty. 

He paused and took a deep breath.

Luthors don’t ask for help. They call in favors. Send memos. Command legions. 

But Lex needed help. 

And he’d admitted it.

Lex glanced up and released the breath he’d been holding. 

He straightened his tie and set down the untouched bourbon so he could cross his arms over his chest and talk business. 

“It’s about my sister, Lee.”


	46. Day 8: The Discovery

It was Winn who called the emergency meeting—though _apparently_ he was not as good at getting his point across as Kara because his friends took _forever_ to respond and then got around to asking _where_ and _when_ as if those details could ever be any _less_ significant!

But the emergency was real—as in, _life_ or _death_ real, in Winn’s opinion.

It had been yet another slow day at the DEO—apparently none of the super villains out there had gotten word that one of the most amazing super heroes on the planet, aka: Winn’s best friend Powergirl, had moved to the quiet little town of Midvale, because so far they’d had like—one attack. 

And that was it. 

Not that Winn was complaining. He liked kicking back and studying the alien technology—and apparently that was what this branch of the DEO was all about. Research. Cataloguing information. Alex’s experiments. Hero support for the big guy in Metropolis. That sort of thing.

There had been some excitement about the Maaldorian raid last week, but that had gone off without a hitch, so--so now things had slowed down to a crawl. And once Winn got used to applying Alex's worry-free method so that he could actually _breathe_ again at work, Winn found he had plenty of time to foster his own hobbies—like learning Kryptonian. Figuring out how to download Impirex Chess onto his laptop—the usual. 

But today he had used the lazy atmosphere on behalf of another—because that’s what _friends_ do. 

Plus, he still had that ongoing bet with James that his photoshopped pictures of Lena fully integrated into Kara’s life would be better, and honestly, the guy had done one photo album. Come on, who on earth would be satisfied with just _one_ photo album when they were trying to remember a _whole life_? 

But Winn had realized pretty quickly that he'd need seriously better source material if he was to have any chance of one-upping his friend. The two pictures Alex had provided when they'd first started this mess were shoddy at worst and impossible to manipulate at best. 

So, Winn, being the good sport that he was, had started trolling the deep net for pictures of the mystery lady currently living as Kara's wife.

All Winn knew about her was what Alex had told him—married to some guy named Maxwell Lord, very wealthy, some yacht called the _Imaculata_ …it was more than he needed really.

And now he really wished that it hadn’t been. 

Because he was not entirely sure how they could have missed _this_.

It took all of one search of ‘Maxwell Lord’ for Winn to learn that his wife, Mrs. Helena Lord, was actually a _Luthor_. 

A Luthor. 

As in— _Lex Luthor_. Lex Luthor owner of _LuthorCorp_ …and basically _everything the light touches_. Okay, well, Bruce Wayne was actually the owner of _everything the light touches_ , but Lex Luthor had at least five subsidiaries under that category and then owned everything in the Shadowlands…unless Gotham was the Shadowlands and then everything was reversed. 

But Winn’s head hurt just thinking about that. 

Another fun fact was that Lex Luthor was the friend of Superman. 

As in— _Kara’s cousin_ , Superman.

Winn could basically hear the prison bars rattling. 

Not only had they kidnapped a woman from one of the most prominent families in Science and Technology—Superman, the paragon of truth and justice was her big brother’s close friend. 

And together, they had the power _to destroy them all_.

Hence, the need for an immediate emergency meeting.

Sure, Winn learned a lot of other unimportant stuff about Helena Lunaria Luthor; youngest member of the elite Luthor family, science fair wizard, chess prodigy, musically gifted, asset to Luthor Labs, graduate of MIT, recently married to Maxwell Hamish Lord…but the more pictures Winn found of a smiling young woman held close to the bald Lex Luthor, the more he shook in his Sperrys.

“What’cha got there, Schott?” Agent Vasquez asked blandly in passing. 

Winn almost jumped right out of his chair. 

“Nothing! It’s nothing! I swear I’m innocent!” Winn shrieked. 

Susan paused and turned, frowning. 

“You okay?” 

“Yep. Just dandy.” Winn grinned. 

Susan’s eyes flickered to the computer screen just beyond Winn that displayed a game of internet checkers still running. She shrugged and turned away.

“Alright—if you say so.” 

Winn waited until Agent Vasquez was out of earshot before he yanked his phone out of his vest pocket and called Kara— _again_.

“Kara—I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, but you’ve _got_ to call me back. I mean it! I’m too young to die—This is Winn by the way.” Winn hung up when he thought he saw J’onn’s shadow around the corner. 

He sunk down in his seat and glanced at the clock—literally counting the seconds of the hours he had left before he could leave.


	47. Alex's Dilemma

Alex had lived in Midvale for most of her life. She’d had a wild phase, of course. Left home. Gone to the big city. Attended Medschool briefly, traveled a bit—but ultimately she’d been drawn back home, to the place she’d been born, her mother’s lasagna, and of course the research facility her father had worked in before her. 

But she was starting to hate small towns. _Her_ small town specifically. 

And it was all because of Maggie Sawyer. 

Alex seemed to be running into her everywhere. With alarming frequency. 

The bar. The post office. The park. The grocery store. 

One would think that such encounters, in the public domain, would be civil. 

But Alex could hardly get more than a smirk and half-wave from the other woman—granted, that may partly have been due to the fact that Alex never could seem to gather the courage to actually approach Maggie Sawyer, so most encounters were reduced to mere sightings, Alex saw her in passing or while she was frantically retreating. 

Somehow, that had become Alex’s default. To run. 

Part of it had to do with self-preservation. Alex was more than well enough aware that something about Maggie Sawyer threw her completely off her game, and she did not want to fall over herself all over again. 

But if she was honest—most of it was fear. 

That night—the night Maggie had bought Alex a drink…it had gone well. _More than well_ actually. 

Maggie had set up the whole thing under the pretext of further reprimanding Alex for her reckless behavior at the pre-school, but their conversation had been about _everything_ but that. Maggie had been charming. And terribly funny. And Alex had somehow managed to string full sentences together without putting her foot in her mouth. And nothing had felt more natural than leaving the overcrowded bar in favor of Alex’s apartment–a more private setting where they could continue their very serious conversation about the chances of the Gotham Knights in their upcoming game against the Star City Stars. 

Alex had no interest in the game whatsoever, but it had been incredibly entertaining to listen to Maggie defend the team of her former hometown with such zeal.

And that was where Alex refused to think further. 

Because at some point she knew that their casual conversation, their getting to know one another as professional women—had somehow turned into a date. 

Like a _date_ date. 

And Alex wasn’t sure how she felt about that. About the _almost_ kiss—about the fact that Alex had been disappointed that it had only been _almost_. 

And the suddenness of Maggie’s departure with that ominous ‘See you around Danvers’. 

It was all very confusing.

Because Alex had never— _wanted_ to kiss a woman before. 

At least, she didn’t think she had. 

Kara had always been so sure of herself. 

She’d never had a bumbling phase the way Alex had where intimacy seemed so—difficult and not exactly worth it. And Alex had maybe been a little jealous that it all came so easily for her alien sister. Alex was supposed to be the big sister, which meant she was supposed to be the one doing things first, racking up stupid experiences so she could give good advice and tell Kara what _not_ to do. 

But things hadn’t worked out that way. 

And Alex had mostly given up on romance altogether when she’d decided to come home to Midvale. She’d never even really made a list of the things she wanted in a potential partner someday. But she’d always thought it was because she just wasn’t a romantic like Kara or her other friends. 

She’d always been more dedicated to her work. 

Maybe there had been once when she had thought about—

No. Alex couldn’t start thinking backwards—

She had to deal with what was happening _now_. About all the ways Maggie Sawyer was systematically ruining Alex’s life. 

The fact was, every time Alex saw Maggie, her heart started beating faster and her palms started sweating. Because she _dreaded_ having to talk about it. 

Any of it. 

So she did the logical thing and pretended it had never happened and tried to avoid Maggie Sawyer. 

But again—small towns are the _worst_. Because Maggie was _everywhere_. With her smirk and her dimples and those flashy black eyes. 

Alex was seriously considering just setting up a bunk in the DEO basement so she wouldn’t even have to go into town anymore. Because town was dangerous. It felt as if her workplace had become her only sanctuary, and she was even willing to run the risk of being caught out by her mind-reading boss if it meant she could avoid addressing the flutterings in her heart for just a bit longer. 

But unfortunately, a text from Winn brought Alex crashing back into her miserable reality. 

> Schott: Emergency!!! Meet up stat!!!

It was just another reminder that Maggie Sawyer was a distraction Alex couldn’t afford. She had more important things to worry about—like her sister’s fake wife and all the complications that came with that.

She prayed Maggie wouldn’t be at the bar tonight—she really couldn’t afford to be distracted if Kara needed her. 

She had to be completely focused. Completely invested. 

Kara deserved nothing less than her absolute best.


	48. Day 8: The Phone Call

Kara wasn’t answering her phone because she was slightly covered in chalk. 

Most of it was confined to her fingers and palms, though there were a few streaks here and there across her face. 

She was in the enclosed patio, the _sun room_ , as Colm had called it when they'd first moved in. She was frowning over her blueprints set up on a solitary card table. It would have to do as an office for now. 

She could still hear the boys arguing as they wrestled over the remote or something, and Lena’s frustrated breathing if she really wanted to. But for the past few hours she had been focused on her plans for Paladin Park. She had penciled in the two main structures she knew she would build—but she felt like she was missing something. 

Like there was something else she could do or should do—but she just didn’t quite see it yet.

Kara looked up when she heard the floorboards creak. 

Moments later Lena appeared at the door. 

She didn’t come in. Something told her that this was now Kara’s space—and she'd taken to avoiding Kara more ardently than ever after they'd had that moment in the attic. When she'd been faced with the irrefutable evidence that this _was_ her life. That she belonged here. 

Still, she'd tried to make the most of it. Slowly easing into some semblance of a routine. 

Lena seemed more relaxed to Kara’s eye lately. As she asserted herself, and her _things_ , in the house. 

Kara had come home a few days ago to find that Lena had thrown the Navy blanket over the living room couch. And just yesterday she’d stuck an old postcard to the fridge and stacked those navy shirts at the foot of the bed—for some reason she still refused to use the bedroom closet. It was little things, like when Lena tucking the plush dolphin between the pillows on her bed. Or when she'd taken the liberty of knocking most of Kara’s things off of her dresser to make room for the makeup she and Alex had put in the ‘personal’ box—Kara had flown them all the way to France that night just to find a store that was open and had bought whatever sounded fancy. Then of course, she’d had to stop by Chicago as the sun rose so Alex could get breakfast from her favorite food truck. But she supposed it had been worth it. 

Lena had also hung up her own towels—the fluffy purple ones over the back of the door. Kara had considered storing away some shampoo for her too or something, but Alex had said that was dumb. No one packs their shampoo in a box with personal stuff and just leaves it. So instead they’d tossed combs and hair pins in there and Alex had even volunteered a few CDs. 

Kara thought it had turned out okay. Lena seemed…a lot calmer now that she was taking up space, that she had physical reminders that she had a past--even if Kara knew they were all parts of a bigger lie, how could she begrudge them if they gave Lena comfort? 

But she was still wearing Kara’s clothes.

Today she was wearing an old one from _way_ back. It was an NSYNC shirt. She had paired it with a pair of Kara’s sweats. 

Yes, Lena may have come to accept her place in this house, in Kara's life--but she was still avoiding Kara's eyes. Still staging mini rebellions however she could. 

Kara sighed and turned to her blueprints, waiting for Lena to voice her complaints for the fifth time that day.

“What exactly are you doing in here?” Lena finally broke the silence, curious.

“Working.” Kara replied automatically.

There was a moment of silence as Lena waited for Kara to volunteer information and Kara waited for Lena to leave her alone.

“That—Winn person called again.” Lena said. 

“Did you answer it?” Kara hummed, engrossed in her measurements again.

“No. I unplugged the phone.” Lena said with a shrug.

“What?!” Kara was fully pulled from her thoughts this time and blinked at Lena in shock. 

“He’s been calling every hour. The ringing was giving me a headache.” Lena defended, rolling her eyes. She held out her hand, proffering a device that Kara recognized. “This time he called your cell—oh, look. He’s calling again.” 

Kara scrambled around boxes to get to Lena. 

Kara rubbed her palms along her jeans and then gingerly took her phone, hoping she didn’t transfer any chalk to Lena—Rao, she’d never hear the end of _that_.

“Winn! Hey, sorry I was—wait, what? What emergency?” Kara’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to make sense of her friend’s stammering.

“Wait, slow down—what happened? Where are you?” Kara demanded, she noticed that Lena was making frantic hand gestures and glanced up, tilting her head to one side.

“You cannot leave me with them.” Lena whispered desperately.

“Yeah—okay. Well—how urgent exactly—right. Okay. Well, I can be there in—”

“Kara.” Lena said sharply, her green eyes narrowing.

Lena’s tone sent electricity arcing down Kara’s spine and her mouth clamped shut. Winn was hissing something about danger and jail and that no one else was taking this seriously.

“Winn—I’m gonna need to call you back.” Kara said slowly. Winn immediately started protesting, but Kara hung up and held her phone against her collarbone, hoping that for once this argument would end quickly and she could hurry off to her friend’s aid. 

“I’ll only be gone for like—twenty minutes tops. I promise.” Kara said quickly, already shrinking under Lena’s seething glare. 

“We both know that’s not true.” Lena snarled, digging her fingers into her own forearms as she glared at her _infamous wife_. “But I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything less.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kara demanded, her shoulders squaring ever so slightly. 

“Only that it seems Alex wasn’t lying about _everything_.” Lena snapped.

“Lena, Winn needs my help…”

“Take them with you.” Lena said darkly. 

Kara was taken aback.

“What?”

“I said take them with you. The boys. Surely the bar has pool tables or little arcade machines or something they can play with while you see to your _emergency_.” Lena said coldly.

“Lena, I can’t take our children to a _bar_.” Kara said, aghast.

“Need I remind you of how poorly the night went the last time you left me alone with them? Everyone was crying. It was awful. They hate me.” Lena said simply.

“They don’t hate you.” Kara said quickly.

“One of the twins calls me ‘the dragon lady’.” Lena said in a monotone. 

“Okay, well, Julien is prone to over-exaggeration.” Kara chuckled. 

“You think this is funny?” Lena demanded, her eyes narrowing even further.

“No, of course not.” Kara stammered. “It’s just—what you’re suggesting is absurd, Lena. You know that right? The twins aren’t even six yet—I can’t take them to a bar.”

“Then don’t go.” Lena snapped.

“But Winn—”

“My mother died of cirrhosis and my wife is out drinking the night away _every_ night. Do you have any idea how _insensitive_ that is?” Lena demanded.

Kara took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. 

She tried counting to five.

“Lena—” Kara bit back her words when her phone started vibrating again and she glanced down to confirm that it was in fact Winn calling. 

Kara almost jumped when she felt a soft hand covering her own. Lena’s green eyes implored her.

“Don’t answer it.” Lena whispered.

“Lena…” 

“Kara, you’re gone _all the time_.” Lena whined softly. “ _Please_ just stay home tonight.”

Kara’s jaw had gone a little slack. She’d never seen Lena— _pout_ before. 

Kara had always considered her pouting abilities to be an added superpower; she could often get what she wanted from even the most stoic of personalities—J’onn, Alex, etc. And then of course she’d become a mother and found out what it was like to have those big puppy eyes turned on her. Kara had always been a big softie. Her boys could melt her heart with just one look. 

But Lena’s pout? 

She looked so soft. Those sharp lines in her face were somehow no longer so dangerous. The red of her protruding lower lip brought out the rosiness to her complexion. And her eyes—were dancing. They were wide and they were _begging_ —she _wanted_ Kara to stay home. With her. 

Kara forgot how to breathe. 

For several seconds, the air was electric between them—and it didn’t help that Kara had her phone held just over her heart so she could feel the vibrations like shockwaves through her body. 

Somehow, Kara found the strength to lift her phone to her ear and press her thumb to the green button in the process. 

“Yeah?”

“Kara, I’m _serious_. This is like, a _defcon level 5_. Red lights blaring—don’t bother driving just _fly_ , kind of deal.” Winn hissed.

“Yeah, dinner sounds good.” Kara said, still a little lost in Lena’s eyes. 

“What? Dinner? What the heck are you talking about?” Winn was lost.

“We’ll be there around seven.” Kara mumbled. 

“We? What are you—bringing Alex or something?” Winn tried to piece together the decidedly one-sided conversation that was going on.

“Bye.” Kara hung up the phone and slipped it into her back pocket. 

Her heart seemed to be tumbling over itself and her lungs still hadn’t bothered to inflate in several minutes—she was waiting for her reward for taking care of the Winn problem so quickly, for the pout to slip away—to fade into something else, something _better_.

Kara was tense, waiting for it. 

And still—somehow her entire world stopped spinning when Lena smiled. 

It was the most beautiful thing Kara had ever seen.


	49. Breaking The News

Winn was not prepared for a dinner party. 

He had been close friends with Kara for awhile now, and he’d been to plenty of game nights and Friendsgivings, so he knew the drill—but the few times that he’d hosted Kara and her crew, he’d had more time to prepare. 

As it was, Winn was not sure he could scrounge up enough food for his Kryptonian friend and her four growing boys—let alone find the foods that Alex “I know what I like and everything else is suspicious” Danvers and Lucy “I’m not in the mood for anything unless it’s spicy” Lane would find acceptable. James was a nonissue, but the others—Winn had no idea how Kara always managed to balance all of their ridiculous preferences so well.

So Winn decided to forego the trouble of food for the moment and start with child-proofing his apartment. 

It wasn’t that Winn didn’t love hanging out with Kara’s boys, but he was a collector of some serious vintage merchandise and his four favorite scamps just hadn’t yet learned that Winn’s figurines were for _display_ , not for _blowing up_.

Winn was still trying to stuff all of his Star Wars and Justice League toys into his hall closet when he heard the doorbell ring. 

Winn shrieked and dropped his replica of the Millenium Falcon on his foot. 

“Ouch! Hold on!” Winn called as he contorted and tried to stuff everything onto the shelf. 

Winn hopped back through his apartment, kicking worn shirts and socks out of the way. 

Winn’s expression darkened when he yanked his door open and saw James and Lucy standing in the hallway. 

“Dude—where’ve you been?” James asked immediately.

“We’ve been waiting at the bar for over an hour.” Lucy added. 

“Oh, I’m sorry—I’ve just been _freaking the heck out_ while the rest of you just went _blissfully_ on with your everyday routines!” Winn steamed.

“Whoa, let’s ease off the hostility there, Winn.” Lucy frowned and eyed her friend.

“You said emergency—so we assumed that meant meet at the bar.” James illustrated, his tone not particularly annoyed, but concerned. 

“Yeah, well that plan went out the window when Kara said something about dinner at seven.” Winn mumbled. 

He reached up to unhook the chain and opened the door wider, inviting his friends in with a complimentary scowl. 

Lucy and James exchanged bewildered glances, but then Lucy shrugged and edged around her boyfriend to step into the apartment. 

“Alright. I’m fine with dining in.”

James looked slightly troubled and he hesitated a moment. 

“Does this ‘emergency’ of yours have to do with—”

“Kara’s fake wife? Gee, James, I wonder what else it could be about.” Winn glared at his friend. 

James held up his hands and finally committed to entering the apartment. 

“Okay, okay—sorry, it’s just the last ‘emergency’ meeting you called had to do with what costume you should stick with for ComicCon.” James drawled.

“Yeah, I figured Alex and Kara were sort of the leads on this.” Lucy said over her shoulder as she opened Winn’s fridge to see what was inside. “Oh—gross! Winn, you can’t just keep shoving things to the back when you don’t want to think about them anymore!”

“Would you stop criticizing my lifestyle for a second and get in here, we need to have a serious discussion!” Winn stamped his foot.

“But Alex isn’t here yet.” Lucy frowned as she shut the fridge and opted to just get a glass of water from the sink. 

“And neither is Kara.” James said. He had sat on the couch and reached up to loosen his tie. 

“I know, I know—but they’ll be here soon, I think, and I don’t know what to _do_.” Winn said with genuine trembling in his voice. 

“What happened?” James asked, sitting a little forward to give his friend more of his attention. 

Winn sighed and ran a hand over his face. 

He scratched at his five o’clock shadow and his eyes wandered as he tried to consider how best to break the news. 

“I went online to find better pictures of Lena—you know, to beat you.” Winn admitted. 

James leaned back a little, amused. “Okay.”

Lucy came back into the living room with her glass of water. She handed it to James as she sat down gingerly and then took it back, fixing stalwart hazel eyes on Winn. “Go on.” 

Winn sighed and picked at the cuffs of his sleeves.

“We really messed up, guys. I mean like— _really_ messed up.” Winn said in a fast whisper. 

“How do you mean?” James asked idly playing with Lucy’s curls while he listened and watched Winn. 

“I mean—the whole thing was a _terrible_ idea from the beginning—but now it’s just—we shouldn’t have done it. Like, _at all_.” Winn articulated, making a slicing hand motion. 

Lucy groaned and sat back more snuggly into James. “Ugh, we get it Winn—you’re the moral conscience of the group and the rest of us are terrible people.”

“No, I’m not talking about morals, here.” Winn hissed. “I mean, yes—morally, we’re all reprehensible and deserve to have life give us soggy waffles for the rest of our days, but I mean on a—just a _common sense_ level, we should _not_ have done this.”

James sighed and rubbed at his bald head for a moment.

“Okay—I’ll bite. Why?” 

“Because _that woman’_ s real name isn’t Lord—it’s _Luthor_.” Winn explained tightly. 

“What?” Lucy was the first to react, disbelief coloring her tone. 

“Lena is a Luthor.” Winn said again.

There was a moment of silence as Winn looked from one friend to the other, waiting for them to reassure him that this wasn’t as big a disaster as he was sure it was. 

“You mean…she’s Lex’s little sister Helena?” James demanded. 

Winn nodded grimly. “Yeah.” 

James’s jaw clenched slightly and his nostrils flared. 

“Okay—why are you guys acting like this is a bad thing? I thought Lex was your friend.” Lucy said, confusion forcing her to frown. 

“He is. Well—he’s more Clark’s friend really.” James said, turning to Lucy. “I know Lex, and we get along alright it’s just—that man is a shark. He’s considered one of the most powerful men in the country for a reason. He’s determined. Resourceful…and family is everything to him.” 

“Wait a second—just hold on.” Lucy set down her glass of water and stood so she could pace and think through this new piece of critical information. “So—Lena is Lex Luthor’s little sister.” 

“Correct.” Winn said glumly. 

“But she’s married to Maxwell Lord.” Lucy stated, looking from James to Winn and back again. “And Lord just left her there in the asylum. We all saw it. And legally it’s the husband who has the burden of welfare, not the brother so it’s really not—”

“Stop thinking about this like a lawyer, Luce.” James sighed. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Lord. Luthors don’t leave their own behind. If Lex finds out that Lena’s missing—”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t.” Winn cut in, his face pale. 

“But _if_ he does.” James said sternly, fixing Winn with a stare. “He won’t rest till he’s found her. And when he does—what is it Miguel says? 'We’ll be dead meat'.”

“Okay, well when he goes looking for her can’t we _logically_ assume that the first thing he would do is call the husband?” Lucy snapped, still a little miffed that her boyfriend had made light of her attempts to work out this new equation. “Then the heat’ll be on that lying, abandoning little—”

Lucy was cut off by the ringing of the doorbell. 

All three friends turned sharply in the direction of the door. 

For a moment, none of them seemed to breathe. Then the doorbell rang again and Winn shakily got to his feet.

“Coming!” He gave James a helpless look and slowly started for the door.

Lucy watched with wide eyes as she slowly sank back onto the couch beside James. 

Winn’s mouth had gone dry as he made his way to the door. 

He straightened his vest and ran a hand through his hair, trying to prolong the moment as long as possible. 

Now that he’d said it out loud—he was sure that Lex Luthor was going to break in at any moment with a SWAT team or something. 

The doorbell rang a third time and Winn cringed. 

He let out a sharp breath and quickly yanked the door open. 

Winn’s eyes lit up when he saw four familiar faces crowding in the doorway and he let out an excited squeal.

“Hey guys! I’m so glad you’re all—” Winn’s eyes traveled up and his words started tumbling over themselves as his stomach dropped about fifty feet. “Hey, ahhh—Lena. Wow, the—the whole family’s—you’re all here. That is just—wow. That is so great.”

“Hey Uncle Winn.” Miguel grinned. 

“Hi.” Walter waved. He was already sipping on a juice box.

“Master Yoda, hungry he is!” Julien bellowed. 

Kara was holding a bag, but the crinkle appeared between her eyes as she noted the sweat standing out on Winn’s forehead and the awkward stance he took at the door. 

“Hey, Winn—I know we’re a little early, but—”

“Oh no, that’s—that’s totally fine. We’re all—fine. It’s good. James and Lucy are already—ah, inside.” Winn was bowled out of the way when Miguel and Julien both let out shouts of joy and darted into the apartment, eager to see their Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Lucy. Colm grabbed Walter’s hand and ran after them, calling a greeting to Uncle Winn as he bolted past. 

“Here, Lena could you—take this inside? I need to talk to Winn.” Kara asked as she transferred the bag to Lena. 

Winn tried to avoid staring at her, but it was very difficult not to—not now that he knew who she really was. 

Lena frowned and tried to make herself as small as possible as she hedged around the man in the vest. 

Kara waited until Lena was out of earshot before she sighed and pushed her glasses further up on her nose. 

“Okay, so what’s the emergency?” Kara asked, crossing her arms over chest. She could hear the boys attacking James in the living room and Lucy doing something at the sink—unless that was Lena.

“Well, ahh—it’s—the funny thing is—wait, where’s Alex?” Winn asked, glancing around Kara as if expecting her sister to be lurking there in the shadows. 

“I don’t know—I thought she’d be here already.” Kara shrugged. 

Then her blue eyes narrowed. “Did she—did you _tell her_ that we were meeting here and not at the bar?”

“I—well, the thing is, I was a little busy trying to clean my apartment on short notice.” Winn stammered. 

Kara tossed her head back and sighed. “Winn.” 

“You only gave me like an hour to prepare, Kara, so don’t give me that.” Winn pointed an accusatory finger at Kara. “I haven’t even ordered the pizza yet.” 

“What?! You mean there’s no _food_?!” Kara was incredulous.

“Not as of yet, but never fear—I’ve got this.” A familiar voice drew Kara’s attention.

Kara frowned as Lucy appeared, already zipping up her jacket. 

“But wait—we didn’t get everybody’s order yet.” Winn tried to stop Lucy as she stepped out of the apartment. 

“It’s not like we've never done this before, Winn—cheese for the boys, Spinach Feta for James, Pepperoni for Alex, Sicilian Chicken for me—everything else under the sun for Kara, and I’m sure _Lena_ can just take her pick from there.” Lucy said evenly, with a strange point of emphasis on Lena’s name. 

Kara frowned, but it was Winn who kept talking. 

“But what about me?” Winn asked hesitantly.

“ _You_ have some very important things to discuss with Kara.” Lucy jerked her head less than subtly in Kara’s direction.

“Right.” Winn deflated a little. 

Kara watched this exchange with a growing sense of dread. 

Lucy half-saluted and took off down the hall.

“Okay—you wanna tell me what’s going on?” Kara asked, immediately rounding on Winn. 

“Well, I did, yes—before you brought the whole gang here.” Winn said tightly, trying not to cringe when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone bumping into his display cases and rattling the delicately placed contents. 

“Look, I’m sorry—it’s just—Lena looked at me with those eyes and she asked me not to go and I tried to get around it, but then she made this pouty face and I just—”

“Kara, we talked about this.” Winn sighed, dropping his forehead into his palm. “You can’t be so sunny and accommodating all the time…”

“Kara?” Lena’s voice drifted from the entryway and both Kara and Winn jumped slightly. 

Lena approached, the edges of her mouth turned down in a decided frown. 

“Were you aware that there is absolutely nothing to eat in this domicile?” Lena demanded. 

“Yeah, Lucy just went to get some pizzas…” Kara said quickly.

“How long will that take?” Lena asked before Kara had even really finished.

“I don’t—”

“When they’re hungry, they attack.” Lena said stiffly. She eyed Winn, who was once again staring at her. 

“Lena, that’s why we brought the snacks—”

“You want to give them _more_ sugar?” Lena asked, raising her eyebrows.

“There’s healthy stuff in there too—”

“Just because something is fruit ‘flavored’ does not mean it carries the nutritional equivalent of actual fruit.” Lena deadpanned. “They need something more substantial to tide them over.” 

Winn’s eyes were pinging back and forth between the two women as they argued. 

Kara sighed and reached up to rub at her forehead. 

Before she could say anything there were several calls from within the apartment—her angels demanding what was for dinner and how much longer they had to wait. Kara didn’t have to turn her head to know that Lena was giving her the ‘I-told-you-so’ look. 

“Alright—fine. Lena, you’re right—they need something more than yogurt and twizzlers.” 

Lena crossed her arms over her chest and followed behind Kara as the blonde finally crossed the threshold and stepped into the apartment. 

The boys were still wrestling with James and each other. Kara clapped her hands together to get their attention.

“Hey guys—let’s make cookies!”


	50. Alex is Still Miserable

Lucy was starting to get worried. 

She had checked Alex’s apartment first, but found it locked and no one had answered the door. And Alex wasn’t answering her phone. 

Lucy had been tempted to call the DEO, but then she’d immediately dismissed that idea. 

She didn’t want to run the risk of saying the wrong thing to someone like J’onn. Alex would never forgive her if she gave them all away for no reason. 

Lucy sighed and called in her extremely large order to the Pizza Palace and then started driving slowly down the streets of Midvale as she waited, keeping her eyes open for some sign of Alex. 

Lucy was surprised when she finally spotted a suspicious looking black suburban parked across the street from the bar—Lucy couldn’t remember if it had been there when she and James had left the establishment less than half an hour ago. 

Lucy pulled in beside the vehicle she hoped was one of hundreds in the DEO fleet, but the driver’s seat was empty. 

Lucy frowned and hopped out of James’s truck. 

She checked her phone again, but Alex hadn’t responded to any of her texts. Lucy rolled her eyes and tucked her phone in her back pocket as she darted across the street. 

She was going to let Alex have it for sending her on a wild goose chase. 

Lucy had searched Midvale’s streets for about twenty minutes, but it took her all of three seconds to spot Alex in the bar. She was sitting alone in a booth with a suspicious looking glass in her hand—the kind the bar used to serve old man Grayson’s moonshine. 

Lucy frowned and hurried through the milling crowd to her friend. 

“Hey, there you are—why haven’t you been answering your phone?” Lucy demanded as she slid into the booth opposite Alex. All sense of urgency had faded from her mind when she noticed how depressed Alex looked. 

“Oh, hey Lucy.” Alex managed without sounding warm.

“How many of those have you had?” Lucy asked, concerned. She knew Alex couldn’t have been here very long, but the dull look in her brown eyes worried Lucy considerably.

“A few.” Alex admitted as she turned the shotgun shaped glass upside down to watch a single drop of very potent moonshine dribble down from the barrel to splash onto the table. 

“Alex—what’s going on with you?” Lucy asked quietly. 

She had noticed small things—subtle hints that Alex wasn’t okay, but so far she had avoided asking her outright. They had always been around their friends, and Lucy had known that Alex would never open up in front of the others, not if she ran the risk of looking weak—especially not in front of Kara. 

But now, they were alone. And Lucy desperately wanted to bring a smile back to Alex’s face. 

“Nothing. I’m fine. Where are the others?” Alex asked, a clear deflection.

Lucy sighed and snagged a napkin to swipe up the single droplet of moonshine glistening on the tabletop. 

“Everybody’s at Winn’s—but you would have known that if you had just looked at your phone.” Lucy said carefully. 

Alex snorted and avoided Lucy’s eyes.

“Yeah, well…I left it at the lab.”

Lucy frowned. That didn’t sound like Alex. 

It was Kara who was always misplacing things. Alex was usually so thorough, so careful. 

“Is that a lie?” Lucy asked.

Immediately, Alex’s expression darkened and her eyes snapped up to Lucy’s face. 

“Of course not! I wouldn’t lie to you—”

“Then why did you tell me that everything is fine?” Lucy interrupted gently, frowning at her friend. 

Alex’s words died on her tongue and she bowed her head, suddenly angry that she had walked right into Lucy’s trap. 

“I know you, Alex. Something’s wrong. You know you can tell me…”

“No, I can’t.” Alex insisted through gritted teeth. 

Lucy’s phone was vibrating in her back pocket, but she ignored it. She was pretty sure it was just the pizza place anyway, and they could wait. 

“Why not? What makes this time different?” Lucy demanded.

“I don’t know, because it’s—it’s complicated.” Alex snapped, hating that Lucy had taunted her into raising her voice. “ _We’re_ complicated and I can’t talk about it right now, okay? It might not even be real—it’s probably just a phase.”

There were several patrons at the bar who had turned their heads to cast subtle glances toward Alex, but she glared at them until they turned away. Mike gave her a concerned look as well, but he withered when Alex’s look didn’t even soften. 

Lucy was watching Alex carefully, her lips compressed in a thin line. 

Finally, she swallowed and forced herself to unclench her fist in her lap. 

“What do you mean ‘we’re’ complicated?” Lucy asked softly.

Alex groaned and rose quite suddenly from the table. 

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out of here.” Alex threw some money on the table and stormed away, heading for the exit. 

Lucy sighed and rose much more stiffly. 

She pulled her phone from her pocket and saw that she did in fact have a missed call from the Pizza Palace. She also had several new text messages from Winn and James—most were variations of ‘hurry the hell up’. 

Lucy frowned and tapped the screen to call the Pizza Palace back and slipped her phone between her shoulder and ear as she searched her various pockets for James’s keys. Her hazel eyes roamed over the bar until they lit on the pool tables several feet away. 

There was no one playing tonight.


	51. It's Because She's a Luthor

Kara didn’t mean to almost burn down Winn’s apartment. 

But actually, if she thought about it, it was Winn’s own fault that the apartment was now filled with smoke and the boys were running around screaming “Fire! Fire!” while the smoke detectors sounded and James frantically ran around opening windows and vents. Kara had had everything under control until Winn had whispered those three magic words into her ear— _She’s a Luthor_.

Kara had no idea what had possessed Winn to turn her entire world upside down at the precise moment he had—she had been in the kitchen with Lena, arguing about how many packages of chocolate chips should go into the cookie batter and the boys had been cracking eggs and throwing flour and sugar all over each other and Lena had been trying to establish order and Kara had been laughing at how adorable she looked all pink in the face with flour smeared all over her shirt and cheeks and then Winn had snuck in without Kara even noticing to whisper those fateful words, completely catching her off-guard. 

That was when Kara had abandoned Lena and the boys to their own devices to follow Winn into his bedroom so she could demand what in _Rao’s name_ he meant…and it was while she and Winn and James had been having a rather loud disagreement that some small disaster occurred in the kitchen, resulting in smoking foil and blaring alarms and screaming children. 

And now Kara was finding it hard to breathe. 

_She’s a Luthor, Kara—any day now Lex could show up to roast us alive._ Winn had said.

 _We have to take her back._ James had said. 

_We have to take her back before this gets any worse._ They had both said forcefully.

They had been adamant. The game couldn’t go on. It was over. Finished. It had already gone on too long. 

If Lex got involved—they’d be toast. Prison would probably be the least of their punishments if a man as powerful and wealthy as Lex Luthor got to them.

But Kara still couldn’t wrap her head around it. It just couldn’t be.

But maybe it was.

Lena was—a Luthor. 

That alone should have made Kara happy because it meant that somewhere out there, Lena had a family other than Maxwell Lord—the man who had abandoned her in the asylum. It also meant that Kara had completely messed up her version of Lena’s past when she’d told her that her mother was dead and her father alive and well—because in real life that scenario was completely flip-flopped. 

But what was more—Kara knew Lex. She’d met him once, briefly—so perhaps the better way to put it was that she knew _of_ him. It was impossible to live in Metropolis without hearing about the charming businessman. And Kal had always spoken very highly of him.

Which was why Kara felt so terribly conflicted. 

Winn and James had decided that they had to give Lena up because Lex Luthor was powerful. Their thoughts were completely focused on what Lex could do to them. 

But Kara’s thoughts were hung up on Lena—and how much she would hate Kara for all that she’d done. 

Before, Kara had always assumed that once Lena actually gained her memory the jig would be up and Lena would be mad and probably never speak to her again—but that would be okay because Lena would go back to her mansions and millions and they would never see each other again. Ultimately, Kara had believed that Lena would understand the fundamental reasoning behind the Revenge and maybe Kara was also a little hopeful that Lena would learn a lesson, come out of the experience a little softer. 

But if Lena was a Luthor—that meant that their families were forever entwined in friendship and Kara was breaking all kinds of unspoken rules. 

And worse still, Kara couldn’t help but wonder if things had been different—if maybe they could have met under different circumstances someday. If maybe she and Lena, or Helena, could have been friends the way Lex and Kal were friends. Maybe if Helena had met Kara as a superhero first, she wouldn’t have been so…abrasive. And maybe Helena had been the way she was, so prickly and cutting on the yacht, because she needed a friend and maybe Kara could have found a way to soften her that didn’t involve deceit and breaking about fifty laws. 

Now she could never hope for a clean break. 

The Revenge was going to destroy the sacred bonds of trust and familiarity between the House of El and the House of Luthor—and Kara didn’t know what to do. 

She wasn’t sure if she could ever hope to fix this. 

If she could ever make it up to Lena. 

And that was how Kara found herself avoiding Lena completely as she waved magazines in the air to try to dispel the smoke billowing from the kitchen.

They had been laughing before in the kitchen, and before the awkwardness of the car-ride over—there had been an electric moment when Lena had looked into Kara’s eyes and Kara’s heart had seemed to fly away from her chest. And granted, Kara knew that was only one moment caught up in the sea of hundreds of uncomfortable or frustrating hours spent with Lena, but it was that moment that Kara couldn’t seem to forget. 

Kara didn’t know how to cope with the conflicting feelings in her chest—part of her agreed with Winn and James, that this had gone on long enough and Lena needed to go home to her family. But that in itself made her cringe as she began to worry about the fallout. Because Lena didn’t remember anything. How could they just hope to un-convince Lena of everything after all of the work they’d done making her believe these lies in the first place? And another part of Kara wanted to keep Lena close for selfish reasons—she couldn’t easily forget the way Lena had looked at her when she’d begged Kara _to stay home_. Or the way she’d smiled. 

Kara was starting to learn all sorts of things about Mrs. Lord, about Helena Luthor—about _Lena_. 

And she wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye. She didn't want to lose her.

“Mom, I’m starving!” Miguel groaned as he flopped down on Winn’s couch.

“Pizzas will be here soon guys.” James promised for perhaps the twelfth time. 

“You said that five minutes ago.” Colm scowled from where he was helping Winn scoop blackened goop out of the oven to deposit in a trash-bag. Colm’s voice sounded particularly tinny because he and Winn had both elected to stick clothespins over their noses to block out the overpowering smell of burnt chocolate. 

“I know you’re hungry, but you’ve got to try to be patient.” Kara said wearily. Thinking about Lena was exhausting. 

“I hate being patient!” Julien wailed from somewhere behind the couch.

“Would you cut that out? You’re giving me a headache.” Miguel complained.

Julien seemed to take this as a challenge and screamed, high pitched and long.

“Julien.” Kara grunted. She was struggling with one of the windows. James had opened them all so easily, but this one didn’t seem to want to shut again and Kara was afraid that if she used too much force—it would shatter.

“I said cut that out!” Miguel threatened as he scrambled up to his knees and glared over the back of the couch to his younger sibling, a pillow raised in warning. 

“Hey, guys—let’s respect the throw pillows.” Winn called nasily as he hurried toward the living room, waving his hands desperately.

“Throw pillows?” Walter repeated. He was sitting quietly on the floor, flipping through one of Winn’s comic books, but he lifted his head and blinked large dark blue eyes at the notion. 

“Uh oh.” James said from somewhere to Kara’s right. 

Kara stiffened and turned, “Don’t—”

But even as Kara said it, Julien popped up from behind the couch to snatch the pillow from Miguel’s hands with a particularly terrifying glint to his shale colored eyes.

“Throw pillows!” Julien howled as if it were a new battle cry and threw the fluffy item up into his brother’s face.

Winn sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. “No—yeah, I guess I should’ve seen that coming.” 

Miguel had been stunned, but he was quick to recover. 

“Oh, you’ll pay for that you little twerp!” Miguel snatched up two pillows to return fire, releasing them in quick succession. 

“Come on guys, really?” Kara was not in the mood for these games. 

“Throw pillows!” Colm laughed, throwing one in Kara’s direction. 

She sighed as she swatted it aside before it could hit her in the face. 

It was then that Kara noticed Lena across the room. She looked frozen in place, her green eyes wide as she watched the boys pummeling each other with the little pillows. 

“Kara—can’t you do something?” Lena whispered loudly when she caught Kara’s eye. 

“What exactly do you expect me to do?” Kara demanded irritably from across the room, completely ignoring the fact that Colm had rolled into Winn’s coffee table and knocked over Lucy’s abandoned glass of water. Luckily, it was empty and simply dropped to the carpet soundlessly. 

“I don’t know— _something_.” Lena snapped.

“Winn’s the one who started it.” Kara pointed out. Kara couldn’t help the harshness of her tone. She was still trying to grapple with recent revelations and she was starting to wish that they really had just stayed home—she wished Winn had kept his mouth shut. 

“Yeah! Get him!” Julien shouted. The pillows now took on a new direction and Winn yelped as he ducked behind his easy chair. 

“You’re not going to do anything?” Lena demanded, clearly getting frustrated. “You’re just going to stand there?” 

There was a crash as one pillow knocked into a lamp. James lurched toward the side table to try to catch it.

“Hey, I _tried_ to make cookies and you burned them.” Kara said around the sour taste in her mouth.

Lena’s eyes narrowed.

“That was _not_ my fault—”

“That’s right!” Miguel suddenly shouted, his voice calling for a ceasefire. “It’s _her_ fault!”

“Yeah, you burned our cookies!” Julien squawked from his place of power on top of a pile of couch cushions. Kara had the sneaking suspicion that Walter was hidden somewhere in that precarious-looking pile. 

“That is _not_ true.” Lena snapped back. “I followed the instructions on the box!”

“And yet here we are— _cookie-less_.” Kara emphasized with a dark chuckle. 

“Get her!” Julien shrieked, taking the honor of first attack for himself. The small boy elected to attempt a ground assault rather than throwing his throw pillow, and his legs churned as he charged toward Lena. 

But Lena was too busy glaring at the _infamous wife_ to pay him much attention. 

She took a step forward and without ceremony plucked the raised pillow from the charging child’s hands, causing his war cry to die in his throat and the rest of the room to go silent in shock as she approached Kara with a murderous look in her green eyes. 

“I _told you_ that wasn’t my fault.” Lena growled. 

Kara’s jaw had gone a little slack and she was powerless to move as Lena came toward her. 

“ _None of this_ would have happened if you had just listened to me.” Lena emphasized her point by smacking Kara with the throw pillow. “ _I_ wanted to _stay home_. But _you_ had to drag us here for your _stupid_ emergency, and _now_ we’re all _starving_ and hitting each other with pillows because _You._ Couldn’t. Stay. Home. _For one night_.”

For a moment, no one seemed to breathe. 

But then Colm roused himself and hefted a couch cushion like a shield. 

“Get Mom!” He shouted. 

Miguel and Julien let out shrieks of agreement and even Walter popped out of his mountain of cushions to run at Kara. 

She suffered the harmless blows gracefully—but it was Lena’s smirk that completely defeated her. 

What had been quick-born anger now turned to despair. It oozed down her spine and pooled in her shoes—Kara doubted she’d be able to fly even if she tried. _Rao_ , she was in over her head. 

The boys were still attacking Kara when Alex and Lucy arrived, but as soon as they smelled the pizza, all four boys abandoned their weapons and left Kara panting on the floor.

Winn had taken to carefully smuggling more of his precious figurines and other breakables to the safety of his bedroom while Kara and the boys had been preoccupied, but James had kept nearby so he could play referee. Now he offered Kara a hand up.

“You alright?” James asked, giving Kara a once over. 

Kara’s eyes lifted, instinctively searching for Lena. She had migrated to the kitchen and had somehow found plates and napkins and was setting them on the island for easy access as Lucy and Alex fought to fend off the ravenous children and actually gain access to the apartment. 

“Yeah—I think so.” Kara grumbled. 

She was breathless and aching mostly in her sides from laughing with the boys.

But there was another ache, a burning confusion and directionless anger beneath the surface too. 

And Kara doubted that it would be remedied anytime soon—maybe not ever.


	52. Day 8: Dining Out

Due to her recently acquired but _very temporary_ medical condition, Lena could not recall very many meals from her life. Most had either consisted of unacceptable slop from the insane asylum or some version of fried food that her _infamous wife_ counted as holy elixir. Those blissful afternoons where she had been left alone, Lena had either forgotten to eat or quite forcefully slammed the fridge after taking a peek inside at the frozen contents. 

Therefore, a meal shared with her _infamous wife_ and plenty of said _infamous wife’s_ friends to take some of the pressure to entertain the four devil-children from her shoulders should have been a welcome reprieve. However, Lena almost immediately found herself longing for those days in the hospital cafeteria. The eggs may have been runny and the meat questionably jiggly, but at least the other patients had had the decency to _make eye contact_ every once in awhile. 

Here, everyone seemed to be preoccupied with _looking away_.

Except the boys, of course, who remained blissfully unaware of the tension in the air as they basically swallowed their cheese pizzas whole. 

And Kara, of course, who simply stared down miserably at her plate. 

That was what had Lena so concerned. 

Kara wasn’t eating.

In the short amount of time Lena had actually been able to spend with her _infamous wife_ , she’d learned a few things—namely that her wife had an enormous appetite. It was one of those things that Lena found both absurdly disgusting and strangely charming. 

Kara seemed to follow her own set of rules for fine dining. For instance, anything green was considered unsavory. Green was _out_. But fried foods were in. The _infamous wife_ inhaled greasy, fried things the way normal people inhaled candy. No wonder the boys got away with consuming such an alarming amount of sugar.

So, to see Kara poking at her pizza rather than eating it was troubling to say the least. 

The boys had spread out on the floor, leaving the couch and chairs to the adults, which Lena had at first found rather backward, but then she realized that the boys had chosen the floor so they could sit closer to the television and watch some crude space film with lots of explosions and grotesque alien creatures. Lena thought the drama on film offered the perfect backdrop for the frosty melodrama playing out in _complete silence_ all around her. 

Lena sat primly in a recliner opposite Kara, but the blonde still refused to look up. 

Lena huffed and glanced down at the oozing pizza on her plate—she suddenly wished that she had thought to grab a fork. Though everyone else, it seemed, was perfectly comfortable with eating the greasy pizza slices with their bare hands. 

Lena glanced up to watch Lucy Lane finally settling back against the couch pillows beside James. The Lane woman had been the last to grab a plate, she’d been whispering to a stony looking Alex while the others filed through the kitchen, but when Lena had wandered past, she’d stopped talking altogether and Alex had stomped away, looking just as sour and unapproachable as ever. Now they were all squeezed together in the room and Lena could feel the tension mounting. 

All of Kara’s friends were giving her funny looks and it was starting to creep Lena out—well, Lucy had the decency to look a little guilty whenever Lena caught her eye. Alex and Lucy’s other half, James, both hesitated before looking away—but the one in the vest and bow tie was definitely the least subtle. He wasn’t even pretending to hold an interest in the film on display. 

Lena crossed her legs demurely and cleared her throat. 

“Lucy—were you really in the Army?” Lena asked, turning her head slightly to look at the Lane woman. Somewhere hardwired beneath all that she couldn’t remember was a desire to be polite, to strike up conversation when she felt she couldn’t breathe. 

“Damn right.” Lucy snorted, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

“How…lovely.” Lena tried forcing a smile. “Is that—how you met James?” 

“No, not exactly. Alex actually introduced us.” James supplied, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“Wow. Kind of like how Alex was responsible for us too, isn’t that right Kara? Alex is just one _heck_ of a matchmaker.” Lena forced a smile and waited for Kara to look at her—to react in some way. 

But Kara barely lifted her head, and when she did, all she did was blink. 

“I am not drunk enough for this.” Alex muttered as she lurched to her feet, “Winn, do you have any beer in this place?” 

“Oh, ah—” Winn was clearly flustered by the question and finally tore his wide eyes away from Lena to turn in place to watch Alex shuffling back into the kitchen. 

“I’ll get her.” Lena said quickly as she set aside her untouched food and practically ran after Alex. 

“Alex—can I ask you something?” Lena asked in a tight whisper once she’d cornered the taller woman in the kitchen. They weren’t exactly out of earshot, so Lena glanced back over her shoulder to see if they were being watched—she _really_ didn’t want to be overheard. 

“That depends.” Alex growled as she continued opening and closing cupboards in her tactless search for alcohol. 

“It’s about Kara.” Lena said quickly, stepping closer. “She isn’t eating—I think something’s wrong.”

“That’s not a question.” Alex drawled, narrowing glassy eyes at Lena. “But let me save you the trouble of coming up with a way to ask what’s really on your mind… _No_ , I wasn’t completely sober at your wedding. But you forgave me for that a long time ago and it turned out great anyway. You saw the pictures right? It was great. You were all great. And it would be _really_ great if you could just scoot over a little so I can look in this drawer here.”

“Okay.” Lena growled as she took a step back. She felt her fists clenching, but it wasn’t from a want to do violence—she was simply frustrated. She could see for herself that Alex was a little tipsy, but even so, she would have thought that the woman would have more concern for her sister.

“But what about Kara?” Lena insisted. 

“What _about_ Kara? She’s great too. Why?” Alex suddenly slammed the drawer and narrowed her brown eyes at Lena, crooking a finger at her. “Are you saying she’s _not_ great?”

“What? No, of course not—” Lena rolled her eyes and started to turn away, but froze when she caught the man in the vest and bow tie peeking over the couch at her. Lena shuddered and spun back around to Alex. 

“Why does he keep staring at me?” Lena hissed.

Alex stepped away slowly from the cupboard. She had a wine glass in her hand, but as of yet had found no wine with which to fill it. She frowned and stared at Lena for several seconds, trying to bring her face into focus. 

“Who?”

“Winn.” Lena whispered, stepping closer. 

“Winn’s great too.” Alex growled lowly, almost snorting as she said it.

The notion was ridiculous. Winn was like the brother she’d never had. He was annoying and pretty spineless sometimes, but he was so _beyond_ great. Actually, _great_ was a terrible way to describe any of the people Alex loved. They all deserved so much better. 

Lena let out an exasperated huff and stepped even closer to Alex, her frustration making her cheeks and neck a little red. “I _don’t care_ if he’s _great_ , Alex. He’s been staring at me ever since we got here. Sometimes with his mouth hanging open. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.” Lena hissed, hoping that none of the others would overhear. 

Alex rolled her eyes and sniffed as she brushed by Lena to take a peek behind Winn’s cereal boxes—she let out a triumphant grunt when she found what she was looking for—a half-empty bottle of merlot. 

“That sounds like a personal problem, Luth—”

“I think you’ve had quite enough alcohol for one evening, don’t you?” Lucy said sharply, appearing just in time to take the bottle of wine from Alex’s hand just as she was starting to pour. 

Alex frowned and shot her friend a dark look. 

“Clearly.” Lena agreed.

“Come on Lane—Lena here was just wondering why Winn’s looking at her funny.” Alex sighed, dropping her arm around Lucy’s shoulders in a poorly executed attempt to draw her closer so she could steal back her wine. 

Lena was still trying to follow the exchange; her nose was scrunched up in confusion as her eyes darted between the two women. 

“What are you talking about?” Lucy demanded, frowning. 

“I know, I know. We don’t like to talk about it, but she’s gonna find out eventually.” Alex chuckled, her brown eyes glinting darkly. 

“Find out what?” Lena prodded even though every instinct in her body told her not to listen to a single goddamn thing Alex Danvers told her because A) she was drunk and B) she was mean. But Lena couldn’t help it. The _infamous wife_ may have told Lena not to ask Alex about things anymore, but said _infamous wife_ was currently brooding over two untouched pieces of Hawaiian pizza—how could she trust the judgement of someone who put pineapples on their pizza? 

“Well, I’m not sure how to tell you this, Lena, but—” Alex began, sounding remorseful.

“Winn was your high school sweetheart.” Lucy cut in quickly, startling both Alex and Lena. 

Despite the rather bizzare situation, Alex had to call on every ounce of willpower left in her body not to laugh at the horrified expression that flashed across Lena’s face. It was _great_.

“My what?” 

“I guess we should have told you right away, but Kara was afraid it’d upset you.” Lucy stammered. 

“You don’t get any of the old feelings when you look at him, do you?” Alex asked, ignoring the sharp elbow Lucy sent right into her gut. 

She couldn’t help it if teasing Lena was incredibly fun. 

“I—I had a _boyfriend_.” Lena repeated, making a face at the word. “In Goober?”

“Yep, small world, isn’t it?” Alex replied cheekily, finally succeeding in wrestling the wine bottle away from Lucy. 

“But it was a long time ago.” Lucy supplied quickly, giving Alex a dark glare. 

“Mom, is it time for dessert yet?” One of the boys called from the den. 

“I want brownies!” Walter called from the floor even though there was still half a piece of cheese pizza on his plate.

“No, no—chocolate cake!” Colm chimed in.

“ _How_ are they still hungry?” Lena demanded, flabbergasted.

Julien narrowed his eyes suspiciously toward the kitchen. 

“They’re growing boys—I’m not sure what else to tell you.” Alex said as she took a long swig from her glass of wine. 

“How about the truth.” Lena hissed, taking the wine away before Alex could have the chance to top off her glass again.

“Okay, well—I think I’d better drive you home now.” Lucy said, tugging on Alex’s arm before the angry looking red-head thought to launch herself at her insubordinate fake sister-in-law. 

“I can drive myself home, Lucy—where the hell are my keys?” Alex demanded, jamming her fists into her jacket pockets only to find that they were empty.

“Irrelevant. Say goodbye to everybody, Alex.” Lucy coached. 

“Is everything alright?” James asked, half-rising from the couch.

All four boys looked up. 

“Aunt Alex is leaving?” Walter asked, his blue eyes going a little watery.

“Before dessert?” Julien asked suspiciously—the idea was ludicrous to him.

“Sorry, little man—Alex just isn’t feeling well.” Lucy answered both James and the small children. 

“Can’t you stay for dessert, Aunt Alex?” Colm asked. 

“They haven’t even blown up the Death Star.” Miguel pointed out. He knew it was his aunt’s favorite part of the film. It was his as well.

“I’m sorry guys, I’m not sure there’s going to be dessert tonight.” Winn added nervously. Lucy had saved his skin when she’d gone to get the pizza, but she hadn’t exactly come back with any savories. 

“That’s right—the dragon lady burned all of our cookies!” Julien shouted, puffing out his chest.

In the kitchen, Lena groaned and dropped her head into her hands—she _really_ wished they had just stayed home.


	53. Lucy Gives Alex A Talk

Lucy Lane had been Alex’s friend for over ten years. She knew her very well. 

She’d seen her at her lowest and been there to hold her hair back while she threw up. She had also seen the woman at her very best and been in the crowd to cheer for her at the top secret ceremony where Alex was sworn in to the DEO. 

But Lucy had never seen Alex quite like this. 

It was a fight to get Alex into the truck, and then it was a fight to keep the radio off so Lucy could even get a word in edgewise. 

“Alex, for the last time will you please just talk to me—”

Alex responded by flipping on the radio for the sixth time. 

It was Mariah Carey. Lucy loved Maria Carey. 

But tonight she had other things to do than sing along. 

“Alex, please—I know something’s wrong. I want to help.” Lucy tried softening her voice this time when she turned the radio off. 

Alex huffed and turned her head away. The sun had gone down and Lucy could only glance at her as she kept her eyes on the road. 

“Hey, wait—Lucy, my apartment is that way.” Alex growled, sitting up to turn her head as the truck drove right by the turn without slowing. 

“I’m aware.” Lucy said dryly as she stuck to her current course. 

Alex huffed again and leaned her forehead against the window, trying to control her breathing. She was getting angry—well, angr _ier_. 

And all she wanted was to go home to sleep off her splitting headache. 

Lucy didn’t mind the silence. 

It was a quiet night, with the last of the fishing boats coming back in, letting loose a series of toots to signal to the shore. It was a powerful, mournful sound.

And it made Lucy sigh every time she heard it. 

The park was empty when Lucy pulled up, empty and dark. 

Lucy cut the engine and slid out of the vehicle, stowing the keys in her pocket as she slammed the door. She waited for Alex to move, but didn’t say anything to pressure her. Finally, the red head started to unfold herself, first her elbows and then her knees, moving as if it were an inconvenience. Lucy rolled her eyes and circled back to the rear of the truck. She pulled down the tailgate and climbed up, zipping her coat up as far as it would go. 

The last golden days of summer had long gone; it was autumn now and the night was brisk. 

Alex took her time meandering back to the back of the truck—she tilted her head back to look up at the stars and took a deep breath. She refused to admit that the cool air helped with her headache. She didn’t want to give Lucy the wrong impression. Like that she was grateful for being dragged out to an abandoned park after dark. Or that she needed to _talk_. 

Alex didn’t need to talk.

“Alex…you’re my best friend.” Lucy began when she could see Alex out of the corner of her eye. Her words seemed to finally break through whatever rage and alcohol haze had fallen over Alex lately, and Lucy saw Alex stiffen. 

Lucy sighed and hugged herself against the chill, keeping her eyes down as she swung her legs back and forth. 

“And at the bar you said some things that—”

“I didn’t mean it—” Alex stuttered quickly, her words weren’t slurred, it was her thoughts that were causing her such a headache. 

“No, no—you’ve always been an honest drunk, Alex. It’s why I had to get you out of there before you told Lena the truth.” Lucy interrupted. 

Alex scoffed and kicked at the gravel beneath her feet. 

“Yeah, well, let’s let Kara handle that one.” Alex murmured. 

Lucy hummed in response and tapped the empty space beside her. 

She hugged herself to keep warm as she watched Alex struggle for several moments with the seemingly impossible equation of stationary wheel well x velocity of mostly upright woman factoring in all of the alcohol that made the ground so unstable. Lucy chuckled several times as Alex failed, but eventually the other woman did manage to get up onto the tailgate and Lucy reached out to keep her from tumbling back off. 

Once Alex was more or less situated, Lucy let out a soft breath. 

“Alex—I can understand if you don’t want to talk about it, and—and the others think you’re just riddled with guilt over the whole Lena/Helena Luthor thing, but I know you. And I get that keeping secrets disagrees with you, but you said something in the bar that really made me worry—and if you’ll let me, all you have to do is listen.” Lucy hesitated and glanced at her friend. 

Alex was staring down at the gravel, her jaw clenched tightly—which was exactly what Lucy had feared would happen. 

“I just want you to know that you’re loved, okay.” Lucy said quickly. 

“I know we—we tease you a lot, and maybe we should start re-thinking some of the things we say, but we all love you, okay. And you should never think that you have to bottle—whatever it is that’s upsetting you inside. You can tell me anything—if you won’t talk to me, then you have Kara or Winn or James, even J’onn—we all love you. You don’t have to go through whatever you’re going through alone. Not for a single minute.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Alex said to the dirt.

“Okay.” Lucy sighed, fighting against the impulse to clench her own jaw and fight back. 

Anyone could see that Alex wasn’t okay. She looked miserable. 

She’d been behaving strangely and she seemed—at war with herself, all the time. 

Lucy ran a hand through her hair and stared up at the stars. 

“Well, just know that—whatever you’re feeling is real. _You’re_ real. And you deserve to have a real, full, and happy life. And I realize now that I’m saying it that it may fall a little short considering we’re in the middle of a highly problematic game of make-believe with that poor woman, but even so…I’m pretty sure _those_ lines are blurring anyway.” Lucy ended her speech with a chuckle. 

Alex’s eyes narrowed even further. She was having a little difficulty keeping up. 

“What are you talking about?” Alex demanded. 

“Oh come on, Alex—you had to have seen the way Lena looked at Kara. How concerned she was.”

“She’s not Lena. She’s Helena.” Alex snapped. “Helena Luthor.”

“Either way, she’s definitely falling for your sister.” Lucy shrugged. 

“Well she can’t have her.” Alex huffed, crossing her arms over her chest in a pout. “When all this is over she can go right back to her stupid money and her stupid husband and leave us all alone.” 

“Oh, Alex.” Lucy shook her head sadly. “I’m pretty sure you know it can’t be that simple. Not anymore. We’re all coming out of this changed…there is no going back.”

Alex continued to stare down moodily at the ground, a certain degree of helplessness making her feel cold. 

Lucy watched her carefully, concern plain in her hazel eyes. 

They were both too absorbed in their own thoughts to notice the shooting star that blazed across the sky. 

It arced brilliantly overhead, flashing green and blue and then white, leaving no trace of its journey. It winked once. 

And then vanished. 


	54. The Truth Is...

It was dark when Kara finally got everyone packed up and left the city. She was still a little shaken—and hadn’t spoken to Lena in over an hour. 

There was an icy tension between them now, and before tonight, Kara would have been wracking her brain, trying to think of a way to breach it. 

But now—

Now she thought maybe it was good to have Lena mad at her.

It meant she’d be getting the silent treatment and wouldn’t be asked any sensitive questions. 

Winn had been right—this new information certainly changed things. 

But Kara also thought Alex had been right on that very first night—they couldn’t take it back. Especially not now, could they? 

If they took Lena to the hospital again, they would be admitting to all of the doctors and nurses that they had lied and taken Lena—well, _Helena_ —under false pretenses. And if they simply told Lena the truth and tried to return her to her family—there was no telling what might happen.

Kara glanced up to look through the rear-view mirror at her boys. 

They were all fast asleep, heads lolling with every bump in the road. She prayed to Rao that they were having good dreams. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Lena asked about twenty minutes down the road. 

Kara tensed and then forced herself to relax. She had been hoping that the silence would stretch a little longer and give her time to think. She really just needed peace and quiet while she tried to sort this out. 

Kara kept a firm grip on the wheel. 

“Nothing’s wrong—just work stuff.” Kara said dismissively. 

Lena lifted an eyebrow and cocked her head to one side.

“Are you ever going to tell me about your work?”

Kara swallowed and kept her eyes on the road. 

Driving at night could give her headaches if she lost focus and let the world come crashing in—all its sounds and terrifying vastness while she was trapped in the metal box on wheels—it was not her favorite activity.

“Well, you know I’m a carpenter.” Kara said as she slowed to cross some train tracks as gently as she could. 

“And what is it about the wonderful world of carpentry that has you so stressed out lately?” Lena asked darkly. 

Kara sighed and side-eyed Lena for a moment.

“Look, I know it doesn’t sound all that glamorous or exciting—but it’s what I do. I build things. Shape them. And Ms. Grant just gave me a huge project and I’ve been working on it, but I still have to wait for the designs to get approved—” 

“What’s the project?” Lena asked, turning a little in her seat. 

Kara swallowed and averted her eyes. 

“She—wants me to build a pavilion or something out at the park. She wants me to basically gentrify the place, give it character. And she wants it all done before the Fall Festival coming up…”

“Hey, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Lena said gently, placing her hand on Kara’s arm. 

Kara felt an electric shock jolt up through her arm. 

She hoped Lena didn’t notice the slight jerk she’d done—but she hadn’t expected the contact. 

“Right—we’re home.” Kara said as she turned the car slowly onto the gravel. 

She knew they still had at least a hundred feet to go, but the blue porch light was visible from here, and she really wasn’t sure she could keep talking to Lena like this—so casually. As if they really were— _friends_ in some capacity, with Lena expressing concern. 

Lena withdrew her hand and turned her head away, a familiar sting in her eyes. 

She reached up to swipe it away quickly before Kara could notice, angry with herself. 

Kara pulled the vehicle up close to the house and turned off the ignition. She took a deep breath and rubbed her palms along the sides of her thighs, as she glanced up to look again at her boys nestled together in the back seat. Even the bumps of the gravelly portion of their drive hadn’t woken any of them. 

“Right.” Kara muttered, frowning. 

Lena turned to look over her shoulder as well, relieved to see that the beasts were still snoring. 

“Can’t we just leave them like this?” Lena asked a little hopefully.

“What? No!” Kara blinked.

In the backseat, Miguel shifted slightly and yawned. Kara turned her head and smiled. 

“Hey buddy—we’re home.” 

Miguel nodded tiredly and reached blindly for the door handle. 

Kara shoved her own door open and slipped the keys into her pocket as she slid out into the cool night. 

She was quick to open the back door for Miguel, and held out an arm to help him in case he was still disoriented. Her oldest boy teetered out of the vehicle and then swayed a little as his feet took him toward the house. 

“Get the lights, Miguel.” Kara called softly as she stepped in close to the backseat and observed the tangle of arms and legs and feet that was left. 

Kara glanced toward the cab and saw that Lena was still looking on, a little pale in the lights from the dash. 

“I’ll get these two if you can get him.” Kara grunted as she carefully slid Julien out from his seat belt and tugged him toward her. 

Lena frowned and glanced down to where Kara was gesturing—to the twin half in the floorboard. 

“But—” Lena bit her lip when she saw that Kara already had one boy up on her hip and was carefully coaxing the older boy out of the car as well. 

Lena sighed and unbuckled her seat belt. 

She stepped out of the car and immediately shivered. It was cold out. 

Lena pulled her sleeves down over her fingers to try to preserve warmth and fumbled with the door handle. By the time she got it open, Kara was already hallway to the house, trailing a slow moving Colm by the hand. 

Lena cleared her throat and glanced down at the boy before her. His head was bent forward, his chin resting on his chest. 

Somehow he had slid halfway out of his seat and seemed to be hanging suspended by his seat belt.

Lena’s first inclination was to take this support away, but when she did so, the boy let out a slight whimper and sank even lower toward the floorboard. 

Lena had to lunge forward to catch him. 

“It’s alright—twin. I got you.” Lena stammered. 

She got her hands under the boy’s armpits and pulled him toward her, trying to lift him up and clear of the seat. The child blinked slowly and Lena was hopeful he would come to his senses and walk up to the house like a functional human being. But just as she pulled him toward her body, the child’s arms somehow found their way around her neck and the next thing she knew she had a twin clinging to her like a monkey, his head heavy on her shoulder. 

“Oh—right.” Lena stammered. She took careful steps back and eased the car door shut. 

The child’s breath was warm across her neck and she could hear it rattling in his lungs with each breath. 

Lena awkwardly worked her arm around him to support him and then used her other arm to reach up and gently cup his head, though she wasn’t sure what purpose such a gesture served. It certainly didn’t feel all that natural, but when she started moving, she found it easier to keep his head pressed down to her shoulder. 

There were lights on inside the house now and Lena took the steps carefully. 

She could see the two large dog beasts waiting for her just beyond the screen door and she gave them her most deadly glare.

“Shoo—back away.” Lena growled as she carefully eased the door open. 

For some reason, the beasts listened to her in this instance and turned to trot away, giving Lena a clear path when she came into the house. The child in her arms mumbled something and shifted slightly. Lena rubbed soothing circles down his back as she picked her way toward the living room. 

“Shhh.” Lena hummed quietly. 

She was surprised to see the oldest boy Miguel lying on the couch as if he’d simply fallen into the first soft surface he could find. 

The twin in Lena’s arms took a shuddering breath and then nestled into her more comfortably, rubbing his face directly into her neck. Lena didn’t dare move. She turned her head when she heard the stairs squeak. 

“Is he still—” Kara trailed off when Lena nodded. 

Kara’s lips parted in a grin and she chuckled softly when she saw Miguel as well. “He’s out like a light.” 

Lena didn’t comment. She had started swaying almost instinctually, and she was afraid that if she tried to speak she would fall out of rhythm. 

Kara stepped over the dogs and went over to Miguel. 

Lena expected Kara to shake the boy awake, but she was surprised to see that Kara simply slipped her arms beneath him and lifted him as if he weighed no more than—well, no more than the much, much smaller child in Lena’s arms. 

Lena’s mouth dropped open when she saw the way Kara’s muscles in her back strained and flexed. A stab of unexplainable heat caught her low in her belly and she knew her breath caught—her _infamous wife_ was very muscular— _ripped_ , was perhaps the better term. And Lena’s eyes were dancing quickly, trying to drink in as much of her magnificent form while she still could.

Kara turned around, completely unaware of what the simple display of strength had done to her pretend wife. She held Miguel close to her chest, careful to support his head as she stepped back over the dogs and brushed by Lena. 

“I’ll be right back.” Kara whispered as she crossed the hall to the stairs. 

Lena followed Kara, like a moth to flame, and stood gaping at the foot of the stairs. 

She couldn’t see Kara’s biceps from this angle—but she could see _plenty_ of other toned places, her shoulders, her calves, and _God_ —her ass looked amazing. Even in those stupid paint-stained jeans.

“Oh my God.” Lena murmured below her breath. 

Her pulse was pounding rapidly—in _low_ _places_ as well as in her ears.

Kara paused at the top of the stairs and turned slightly, raising an eyebrow as she glanced back down at Lena.

Lena’s cheeks tinged pink even though she knew there was no way that Kara could have heard her—she took a sharp breath and turned away, still trying to gently sway with the child in her arms.

Lena was still berating herself for being such an idiot when Kara reappeared at her elbow, arms now empty.

“Here, I can—” Kara reached for the twin. 

Lena took a small step away—she wasn’t sure why, but she wasn’t ready to part with him just yet. She’d grown accustomed to the heavy way he breathed, to the weight of his head on her shoulder, the slight flutter of his eyelashes against her neck when he adjusted—even his smell. 

“They’re not so bad when they’re sleeping.” Lena admitted quietly. 

She also found that holding a sleeping child in her arms was a good curb to her more reckless impulses. And the child’s presence was soothing—helping to calm her from—whatever excitement she had felt a moment ago. 

Kara chuckled and stepped closer. 

“Yeah—they’ll steal your heart if you’re not careful.” Kara said affectionately. 

Lena glanced up at Kara, but the blonde was more focused on gently lifting Walter from Lena’s arms and pulling him to her own body. 

Lena suddenly felt cold without the child’s heat—and she was overcome with a new desire to cry. 

She bit her lip and sniffled as she turned away. Sometimes she did not understand how or why her body seemed so intent on betraying her. 

“Lena?” Kara called softly after Lena, but either the woman did not hear her or chose to pretend she hadn’t because she did not turn around. 

Lena disappeared to the back of the house, clearly going to the bedroom to get ready for bed. 

Kara sighed and lifted Walter up to her shoulder, slipping her arm more securely under him as she turned to go up the stairs. 

Kara floated this time, now that she did not have an audience, and carried Walter quickly to bed. She used her super speed to grab his PJs, but was slow and careful as she undressed him. Walter roused himself enough to lift his arms for her and to crawl under the blankets on his own, but he was asleep again as soon as his head hit the pillow. Kara tossed his shoes and clothes into a corner and glanced around to make sure that all four boys were still in bed. 

“Goodnight, kiddos.” Kara whispered as she flicked off the light. 

She was met with a chorus of heavy breathing and she lifted off the floor as she closed the door gently behind her. She floated carefully back down the stairs, listening hard to make sure Lena was still sequestered in her room. 

When she was sure that the coast was clear, Kara used her superspeed to change into the pajamas that she'd taken to stowing in the bathroom and then she jogged back through the house to the couch. The dogs seemed content to remain on the floor this evening, which she counted as a blessing, and Kara shook out the Navy blanket for herself. 

Kara’s back stiffened when she heard the bedroom door open and close and she turned as Lena appeared from the back hall—already dressed in one of the loose-fitting Navy shirts and a pair of Kara’s pajama pants that she rarely wore because she got hot under too many layers. 

Lena was fiddling with her fingers as she approached and Kara swallowed—afraid that Lena would ask her again what was wrong—that she would once again have to lie. 

“So you’re…still sleeping out here?” Lena asked, finally gathering the courage to lift her green eyes up to Kara’s face.

Kara was a little startled and crossed her arms over her chest just to give herself something to do. 

“I—well, I told you…” Kara trailed off when she saw Lena flinch slightly, saw the tears well in her eyes. 

Kara wanted to kick herself— _of course_ Lena knew that she was lying about her bad back. 

The woman had just watched her carry the boys up the stairs with no problem for crying out loud!

Kara groaned and dropped down to the edge of the couch, Lena’s whispered ‘oh my god’ now made a lot more sense. 

“Lena—I’m sorry.” Kara finally said, making a decision as she stared down at the wooden flooring beneath her feet. “I—I don’t have a bad back, and I’m sorry I ever lied to you about that.” 

Kara bit her lip and looked up. 

Lena was hugging herself. Her face was pale and her eyes were glistening somewhere between hurt and fear. 

Kara ran a hand through her hair and tried to sit up a little straighter. 

“I don’t want to lie to you anymore—you deserve the truth.” Kara said plainly, her chest clenching when she heard Lena’s breath catch. 

“The truth is…” Kara was looking up into Lena’s eyes—her brilliant green eyes, and Kara had never seen her look so vulnerable. Lena was lost, drowning in a sea devoid of memory and she was hanging onto Kara’s every word like a lifeline. 

Kara sighed again and glanced to the right for the briefest of moments. 

“The truth is that I didn’t want—I didn’t want to make things awkward for you. About—this. Us. When we first got you back from the hospital—you didn’t want to believe any of this, and the doctors said that we should try to get you back into your routine—but getting back into the routine of…sleeping in the same bed and sharing the same space…I don’t know, it seemed like a bit _too much_. I didn’t want you thinking you had to—do anything that you weren’t comfortable with, not when I’m basically a stranger.” Kara tried to explain.

Lena stood frozen for a long moment. 

She blinked once, the tears in her eyes somehow balancing on the brink—not quite spilling over, they simply welled and made her vision blurry. 

“You are my wife.” Lena practically croaked.

“Yes.” Kara said quietly. “I am.”

Lena took a sharp breath and lifted her eyes to the ceiling for a moment. 

When she glanced back down, Kara hadn’t moved. 

Lena managed to swallow around her constricted throat and she forced a smile as her arms instinctively crossed so she could hug herself tightly—she suddenly wished that she had something in her arms again, whether the twin child or her plush dolphin Rodrigo, it didn’t matter, just so long as she could hug something close and pretend that she wasn’t falling to pieces.

“So, I suppose chivalry isn’t dead.” Lena said quietly.

“No.” Kara chuckled, relief finally relaxing every tense muscle in her body. “Not in this house.” 

Lena nodded and bit her lip. 

For a moment they remained where they were, awkwardly avoiding each other’s eyes as Lena continued to blink back tears and tried to understand why her blood was still on fire and Kara fiddled with her glasses and kept her eyes on the wooden floors.

“So it’s not…” Lena hesitated and tried to remember that she wasn’t supposed to listen to everything Alex Danvers told her. 

But she couldn’t help it—a part of her wanted to believe that she and Kara had once had a healthy sexual relationship because then it would explain away the lusty desires that went wild in her mind every time she caught a glimpse of even a sliver of bare skin on the _infamous wife’s_ glorious frame. And a part of her wanted to believe that Kara had those thoughts too—that she hadn’t run away and started sleeping on the couch out of disgust or worse—disinterest. 

“So it’s not because you don’t…want me anymore?” Lena finally managed to articulate. 

“Of course not, Lena.” Kara said sternly, in a tone that left no room for argument. 

Lena couldn’t help but hate her a little for it though, because a fiercer jolt of arousal shot through her system and she had to shift her weight ever so slightly as she stood there awkwardly in front of the woman who for some reason seemed completely unaware of the ways she was slowly but surely driving Lena insane. 

“Okay.” Lena blinked and forced herself to breathe through her nostrils. 

She waited for an eternity, but the tension continued to coil hotly between them and the _infamous wife_ made no move to elaborate on all the ways Lena was in fact wanted and loved and desired, or otherwise offer Lena sweet release from her predicament. Which Lena found incredibly selfish. 

In essence, chivalry was a selfish crutch.

Lena sighed once again and dipped her head. 

“Okay. Goodnight then.” Lena muttered. 

She heard Kara let out a rather breathy sigh of relief as she turned to go. 

“Goodnight, Lena.” 

Lena only made it as far as the kitchen before her anger boiled over and she changed course. 

She stomped back into the living room. 

She was aware that it was late and that there were several reasons why she should just drop the subject that clearly made Kara uncomfortable, but some stubborn part of her just couldn’t let it rest. 

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe if you kissed me it might spark a memory?” Lena demanded, clenching fists. 

“What?!” Kara squeaked. Her cheeks tinged a deep red and if she had been gripping anything other than couch cushions—she was pretty sure she would have broken it. 

“I mean, visual stimulation _clearly_ isn’t working, and all this talk about reestablishing my daily routine is complete and utter _nonsense_ , Kara! I’m home alone all day scrubbing, and sweeping, and mopping, and not once have I had a single flash back to my life before—”

“Lena, keep your voice down!” Kara hissed nervously, finally rocketing to her feet. 

She could hear grumbles and squeaking mattresses as the boys tossed and turned up in the nursery, coming dangerously close to consciousness once again.

“Make me!” Lena snarled.

Something in Lena’s tone spurred Kara forward, almost too fast. 

For one brief, _beautiful_ moment—Lena stupidly thought that Kara had given in and was coming to kiss her. Her breath caught and she lurched forward on impulse to meet Kara halfway, reaching for her as one would lash out for a lifeline, both desperately and joyfully—but of course, the _infamous wife_ Kara Danvers was too _chivalrous_ for something so _wicked_ as a kiss, and had actually stepped forward to put a hand over Lena’s mouth.

They tangled together for a moment in a confusion of propulsion and limbs all akimbo—and promptly crashed to the floor.

Lena’s breath was knocked from her lungs as yet another pang of heat raced to her lower extremities. Kara had landed directly on top of her, her body pressed into Lena in a way that was _all kinds of unfair_. One of Kara’s knees had become wedged between Lena’s legs and there was _almost_ enough friction to—Lena let out an involuntary whimper, anger and confusion and mounting frustration all crashing to set her heart racing as it never had before. 

For her part, Kara had managed to get one hand beneath Lena’s head to shield her from a rough connection with the wooden floors and she’d tried to brace herself with the other so she wouldn’t completely crush the woman beneath her. 

But when she heard Lena’s whimper, Kara’s free hand instinctively shot to cover Lena’s mouth as her eyes blew wide open. 

“I’m so sorry, Lena—did I hurt you?” Kara hissed in a whisper as she tried to ignore the painful desire she had to—to do _so much more than_ _kiss_!

Kara had been struck every day since Lena had come into her life with little moments—sometimes it was something Lena said, or the specific way she rolled her eyes and simultaneously smiled, or the way her eyes burned—every day there were moments that Kara felt an equally nervous and giddy desire to kiss Lena. They took her by surprise, stole Kara’s breath away—but she always ignored them and moved on. 

But not today.

Today the moments hadn’t simply flashed and passed away—they had been building on each other ever since the moment when Lena had looked directly into Kara’s eyes and begged her to stay _home_ —it had felt significant. And all evening, Lena’s eyes had burned right through Kara, her laugh and her glares had been equally effective in bringing blushes to Kara’s cheeks and positively _sinful_ thoughts to her mind.

She didn’t know how it had happened exactly—but Kara knew that the slight attraction she’d felt for Lena had been steadily growing, and now, here she was with the most annoyingly beautiful and complicated woman she’d ever met beneath her, looking at her with those bright green eyes and Kara wanted so _desperately_ to just give in—to all of it. 

She wanted to put a hand over Lena’s heart and simply _worship_ those soft breasts. She wanted to run her hands through Lena’s silky hair and _ravage_ that impeccable neck. Rao, she wanted to explore every inch of Lena’s gorgeous body and _shatter_ every single one of her walls until she was completely and _irrevocably_ undone—because Lena was so beautiful and so _infuriating_ and Kara had never wanted anyone quite so desperately. 

_Rao_ , Lena’s eyes were _burning_ and Kara’s pulse was _racing_ and she could feel her libido kicking in _hard_.

_I_ _t’s not fair._ Kara thought in a desperate haze as she licked her lips, angry with herself for having such violent thoughts about the woman she was lying to so bitterly. _It’s not fair to Lena—None of this is fair!_

For several moments, Kara could only blink down at Lena as they both panted heavily, completely out of synch. 

Kara’s entire body ached with the need to _just end this_ —to tell Lena the truth. 

But if she did, she’d never get to kiss her. 

Because Lena would hate her.

Lena narrowed her eyes by degrees and _growled_.

It was then that Kara realized she still had a hand over Lena’s mouth, making it impossible for Lena to actually answer the question Kara had posed—whatever it had been. Kara had completely forgotten. 

She quickly drew her hand away and waited, heart still pounding. 

“If you’re not going to kiss me—kindly _get off_.” Lena said lowly, enraged green eyes flashing. 

Kara swallowed and leapt up immediately, reaching down a hand for Lena as well.

Lena blatantly ignored the offer and stood with as much grace as she could muster. 

She refused to look at the _infamous wife_ as she dusted off her pajama pants. She was angry and _humiliated_ —which of course did _wonders_ for her state of flustered arousal.

“Lena, I--I’m—” Kara stammered.

“Sorry? Yes, I think we’ve established that.” Lena said coldly as she picked her way around the coffee table.

“Lena—”

“But just so you’re aware, your apology is _not_ accepted.” Lena called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the shadows of the house where she could cry without an audience. 

Kara sighed and removed her glasses so she could rub again at her forehead. 

She was really starting to hate the Revenge. Not only because it was so exhausting and stressful—but because she was starting to understand the cruelest part—what had begun as fun and games was now coming back to punch her in the gut. 

Everything that hurt Lena—

It was hurting her too.


	55. Alex and Maggie

Alex Danvers thought her night had ended once Lucy had let herself into her apartment to dig around for some aspirin and several bottles of water which she had shoved into Alex’s hands by way of a ‘goodnight’. She’d been grateful to her friend, but even more grateful that her crummy day was finally coming to a close. She wanted to forget most of it as it was. 

But shooting stars, it seemed, didn’t have to be seen to grant wishes of the heart.

Alex felt as if she’d only just closed her eyes when she heard a knock on her door. 

Given the lateness of the hour, and the lingering impairment to Alex’s higher level thinking and motor functions, she did not give it a second though—but rolled immediately out of bed and stumbled through her apartment to the door.

Alex had expected to find either Lucy or Kara on the other side of the door, most likely with yet another problem that she would have to solve, so when she opened it to find none other than Maggie Sawyer—her mouth dropped open. 

“M-Maggie?” Alex stammered, squinting as if she couldn’t see Maggie clearly. 

“Danvers.” Maggie said coolly, with enough of a smile to bring out her dimples. “It’s been a hot second, how’ve ya been?” 

“I—I’m fine.” Alex said the words carefully, hoping that she would be heard loud and clear.

Maggie eyed Alex, the edges of her smile twitching as if it took some effort to keep it up and she continued to idly swing the keys in her hand back and forth, letting the shiny metal catch the bit of light. They weren’t even her keys. They were Alex’s, and Maggie was waiting for some spark of recognition from the woman, but Alex continued to stare out at her numbly, her face clearly set to indifference—it was a mask Maggie had seen on government types again and again. 

But she had thought that Alex might be different.

Maggie had been intrigued by Alex from the moment she first laid eyes on her and she had thought Alex was giving her some pretty obvious signals that the interest was mutual when she’d flirted with her over beers—but the last few days had made it abundantly clear that she would have to set aside her romantic fantasies. 

Maggie was a detective after all, and a pretty damn good one. 

And she wasn’t going to chase someone who was already running from herself. 

“Are you sure?” Maggie asked softly, hopefully. 

Alex frowned slightly, her face twitching as she lost her resolve. 

Her brown eyes widened only to squint again. Her heart was racing and her hands were sweating—the usual symptoms. But she couldn’t conceivably retreat this time, seeing as Maggie had caught her at home. _There is no retreat._

Alex’s entire body went rigid at the realization—this was it. She’d been caught. 

There was no retreat.

“No—I lied. I’m not fine.” Alex admitted, her words coming soft and without breath as she swayed slightly.

Maggie’s dark eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but then seemed to soften.

“You’re not?”

“No.” Alex sighed. She crossed her arms over her chest, but couldn’t remember if she was supposed to tuck her hands into her armpits or not and she had to stare down for a moment to make sure she folded her elbows properly, it was very difficult. 

Maggie bit her lip to keep from chuckling as she watched Alex’s stoic face crumple into a road map of concentration and frustration, her brows crinkled and her nostrils flared, her lips pursed and her lashes fluttered. Maggie’s heart might have skipped a beat. 

Once Alex was satisfied that her hands were in the right place, she looked up again at Maggie and leaned slowly to the right until her shoulder met the door-jam. Her expression was serious. 

“I’m actually terrible.” 

Maggie nodded, but didn’t say anything. 

She knew that Alex was drunk. She had assumed she would be when she’d found her vehicle stationed outside the bar. 

She’d driven by it on her route about five times. A quick conversation with Mike had sent her hurrying here, not quite sure what she’d find. She had told herself that she would park the car and drop the keys through Alex’s mail slot in the lobby, because Maggie wasn’t cruel. 

She had caught on to Alex’s little games—the half-waves and furtive eyes. The retreating back. She knew Alex had been avoiding her, and Maggie wasn’t too proud that she wouldn’t admit that she had enjoyed it at first, chasing Alex even if it only got her the briefest glimpse of a blush as the red-head turned away. 

But then she’d noticed something beyond the adorable pink flush to Alex’s cheeks—it was fear in those incredibly beautiful brown eyes. 

_That_ had given Maggie pause. 

Forced her to reevaluate and reconsider.

Alex had seemed so—solid. So confident and fiery that night Maggie had watched her threaten the Schott boy. And that’s what had intrigued Maggie first, that there could be this paradox of a woman in her midst. Someone who had been so awkward and clueless when they’d first met who had a sexy badass hidden inside, one that came out to play when she didn’t know Maggie was watching. Maggie had wanted to see more of both sides, but all of her attempts to see Alex again had been met with clear rebuffs. With a cold and hardened government agent exterior that Maggie would have found laughable if it hadn’t hurt so much. 

It was then that Maggie had decided to give up her pursuit of any closer connection with Alex Danvers. The woman did not want to be seen. 

She was hiding a part of herself from the world. 

And Maggie wasn’t about to take it upon herself to get into an identity struggle with someone she hardly knew. She’d been down that road enough times to know it wasn’t worth it. So she’d told herself to let it go. She’d give Alex her space and maybe someday, Alex would tire of the game and they could be friends. 

But then she’d noticed Alex’s SUV outside the bar. 

And passed it more than once. 

And she’d gotten worried. 

Because apparently during the grand total of five conversations she’d had with Alex Danvers, Maggie had gotten a little in over her head. 

And now they were here. 

At three o’clock in the morning with stardust and moonshine in their eyes and those stupid stubborn walls were finally crumbling. 

“You’re terrible?” Maggie parroted back to Alex, her eyebrows inching together slightly as she watched Alex nod in a way that made her red curls bounce. It was difficult to feel anything other than a thrum of pleasure when Alex nodded so eagerly. 

Maggie took a soft breath. 

“Do you mean—you _feel_ terrible or you’re a terrible person?” She asked. 

Maggie was a little distracted by her cute camo pajamas and the rumpled state of the taller woman’s curls, but she did her best to dip back into the gentle well of Alex’s eyes as often as she could, even if each time she did catch Alex’s eye, she could feel herself melt just a little more. 

Alex’s face scrunched as she considered the question and she bit her lip.

“Both.” 

Maggie’s heart clenched in sympathy and she took a small step forward. 

“Is there any way I can help?” Maggie asked softly. 

Alex nodded and then carefully righted herself, pushing away from the doorframe so she could turn her body and make a sweeping, welcoming gesture. 

Maggie took the hint and dipped her head as she crossed the threshold. 

Alex’s body was flushing hot and then cold, and her head was pounding—but she managed to close the door without giving in to the terrible tremor in her hands. 

She was nervous. 

Maggie paced to the center of the room, rubbing at her chin as she considered how to breach the subject without frightening Alex again—even if the alcohol had dulled a few of the agent’s sharp edges, Maggie was painfully aware of tension between them and she wanted to break it amicably, with the possibility of a cordial friendship still intact…maybe even something more once Alex came to terms with who she was further down the line. 

Because Maggie could still hope, couldn’t she?

“Alex, listen, I wanted to say that—”

As Maggie turned and lifted her head to address Alex, she was surprised to feel a pair of soft hands sliding into place at her cheeks, a tender trap, and a pair of supple, unpracticed lips slotting over her own, smothering her words. 

Alex’s nose bumped into Maggie’s in her haste, but Alex was determined to kiss the dimpled cop with fervor, seeing as her dalliance with old man Grayson’s moonshine had robbed her of her precision. 

Maggie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise and she wrapped her fingers around Alex’s wrist to steady herself, but she didn’t pull away.

It was all so— _soft_. 

Not in practice because Alex’s lips were a little numb and she was sure that she was a fumbling mess, but in the way her senses were slowly and steadily overwhelmed with all things _Maggie_. There was a fullness to her smell, a full day of hard work and sweat weathered by the salt in the air, but beneath that there was the distinctive tint of something far away, like pine smoke on the breeze or oiled leather. She smelled _warm_ , like shea butter or some other such soothing balm. Her skin was warm and smooth beneath Alex’s palms. Her breath too, was warm and her touch reassuring, both at Alex’s elbow and the gentle pressure of her lips giving way to Alex’s. 

Alex found herself thinking— _this. This is how it’s supposed to be._

It was all so _effortless_ , kissing Maggie. 

Like her body _finally_ knew what it was supposed to do. 

Like her lips had finally found a song that she wasn’t ashamed to sing.

Alex wanted to cry. 

Instead, she broke away suddenly, and bowed her head, curling in on herself. She kept her eyes closed—and her hands on either side of Maggie’s face. 

She needed that connection. 

“I have been wanting to do that.” Alex said, her voice trembling with emotions she could no longer suppress. 

Maggie moved her hand gently, lightly stroking Alex’s arm. 

“And I’ve been _waiting_ for you to do that.” Maggie confessed quietly. 

Alex’s head snapped up, her brown eyes wide though they looked almost black because her pupils were so blown. 

“What?! Why didn’t you say anything?” Alex demanded, hiccupping slightly. 

Maggie’s lips twitched and she would have chuckled if she didn’t have such a bittersweet taste on the tip of her tongue. 

“Because we were in really different places—I didn’t think you’d listen.” 

Alex scoffed, but then Maggie tilted her head in the most—sympathetic and somehow adorable way and Alex could only sigh, long and deep, and drop her head again. This time her hands fluttered down to find purchase on Maggie’s shoulders and she hung suspended for a moment. 

“Yeah, no—you’re probably right. I wouldn’t have listened.” 

She blinked down at her geometric carpet—it seemed to be spinning. 

“My whole life has been about being perfect. I don’t—I don’t even know who I was trying to impress.” Alex confessed. 

Her words weren’t quite so fragile anymore, so quiet. It was as if she had to speak up not only so Maggie could hear, but for herself as well. It was cathartic. And Alex struggled, but she took her time, working through the hot and messy _tension_ that had been tearing up her insides for _so long_ now. 

Maggie didn’t mind. She listened patiently.

“Perfect grades. Perfect job. Perfect sister. Taking care of Kara, that’s always been what’s most important for me, and I know now, she doesn’t _really_ need me, but I’ve always tried to be there for her. I have this need to—to protect her, and she’s—she’s built this beautiful life and I’m so grateful, you know? Just to be a part of it. But there’s always been this—give and take that I’ve had to reconcile. I pour so much of my time into that, into trying to take care of my sister’s problems so I won’t have to—deal with my own. With the one part of my life specifically that I’ve never been able to make perfect.” 

Alex took a deep breath. Saying all of that, it had taken a lot out of her and she felt a little lightheaded. She shook her head, closing her eyes again as she fought a wave of nausea.

As if she could sense Alex wavering, Maggie let her hands drift down to find Alex's hands, and she squeezed lightly, encouraging her silently to _keep going_ , to let it all out. It was important, to say the words. 

“ _God_ , I don’t—I don’t even know what has me so afraid. It’s not like it’s something that’s ever been taboo in our house, I mean, Kara’s pan for crying out loud! But everything always came so naturally for her, and I just never could…figure it out. She made it look so easy, but I was always…dating just never seemed to work out for me. I just never really liked it, I mean, I tried. You know, I got asked out, I just…I never liked being intimate. I always just thought, I don’t know, maybe that’s just not the way that I was built. You know? It’s just not my thing. I never thought that it was because… _God_ , I don’t know why I can’t even say it.” Alex lamented, clenching her jaw because she felt like such a damn coward. A tear slid down her cheek. 

“Hey.” Maggie interrupted gently. 

She lifted Alex’s chin.

“It’s different when it’s happening to you.” Maggie said with quiet sternness. If Alex remembered nothing from this encounter, Maggie prayed she would at least remember this, “And that’s _okay_. It’s okay to appreciate how new and shiny and wonderful it all feels for yourself, Alex—how you feel, and how you come to terms with it—you don’t have to measure that against anyone else.”

Alex groaned and closed her eyes—Maggie’s eyes were beautiful, but Alex still had a headache. 

“Everything is spinning.” Alex whispered, a whine in her voice. 

Maggie’s lips finally twitched up into a smile and she chanced reaching out to brush Alex’s russet curls from her forehead. 

“That’s because you’re drunk.” 

Alex sighed and pressed her forehead into Maggie’s for more touch, keeping her eyes closed. Her thoughts were still racing and her heart was still quaking, but in the confusion she could remember Lucy’s words. They rang through her entire being— _you’re real. What you’re feeling is real._

“Maggie the one thing I’m sure about is that I like you—that I want to kiss you.” Alex whispered.

Maggie’s heart clenched and she lifted her eyes to the ceiling, breathing through her nose. 

It wasn’t that she doubted Alex. It was just that she knew liquid courage had its limits. Like a spell from the fairy books that could only last till midnight. 

Or a wish that would only come true if the star fell. 

“I like you too, Alex.” Maggie admitted. “I like you a lot.” 

Alex lifted her head, smiling and still in a daze. She had a very strong desire to kiss Maggie again. 

Maggie took a moment to trace Alex’s face with her eyes—she wanted to remember this open expression, that hopeful and tearful look in Alex’s deep brown eyes. Maggie had known too many women who could only find the words under cover of darkness—she had seen that look of relief, of understanding, crumple into one of confusion and self-doubt once the sun came out far too often. 

“But let’s see how you feel tomorrow, okay? From the looks of it you’ve had a pretty rough day.” Maggie said soothingly, slowly pulling away until Alex was standing on her own, but she kept their hands linked so she could tug her out of the den and direct her toward what she assumed was the bedroom. 

“Yeah.” Alex blinked slowly. She seemed to have stepped into some sort of haze, things weren’t just spinning anymore, they were blurring. Maggie was in her apartment. Maggie was holding her hand. “Yeah, it was crap.” 

Maggie chuckled and nudged the doors in the hallway open—the first was the bathroom and the next one a linen closet, but eventually she got to the master bedroom, and she was relieved to see that Alex had preemptively stocked her nightstand with aspirins and water.

“Right then—” Maggie dropped Alex’s hands and crossed to the bed to turn back the covers for her. “I think it’s safe to say you’re in for one hell of a hangover tomorrow, Danvers, so you’d probably better try to get some sleep before your body turns on you.” 

“Yeah,” Alex sighed as she flopped on the bed, her curls falling into her eyes, “it’s probably gonna suck.” 

Maggie’s lips quirked, but she tried not to chuckle out loud. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Maggie agreed as she focused on tucking the blankets under Alex’s chin—they were a soft purple, which Maggie had not expected. She had thought—maybe grey and black. Agent Danvers seemed like a grey and black kind of person. But she’d been surprised to find that Alex’s bedroom was full of warm colors. In fact, most of the décor in Alex’s apartment was pleasantly surprising. 

“But I think, the worst of it has passed.” Maggie whispered, letting her eyes drift to Alex’s face for another peek of those big brown eyes. 

Alex frowned and cocked her head to one side, “You think so?” 

“Mhmm.” Maggie hummed. 

Alex seemed to consider this and then she nodded. 

She glanced up at Maggie and then blushed. She glanced away and fiddled with the edge of her blanket, effectively ruining Maggie’s superb tucking job. 

“Maggie—will you—would you stay? With me?” Alex asked quietly. 

Maggie was surprised and her entire body seemed to jolt. 

She struggled for a moment with words, “Oh, ahh—I-I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Alex’s expression fluctuated between hurt and annoyed with dizzying speed. 

“Why not? I thought you said you liked me.” 

Maggie rolled her eyes. 

She had to remind herself that Alex Danvers was in an emotionally vulnerable state—and on top of that, she was drunk. 

Maggie needed to be gentle. 

“I _do_ , Alex.” Maggie assured her. 

“So then—” Alex tried to cut in, gesturing wildly with her hands and almost displacing her blanket but Maggie caught her wrist and carefully replaced her hands under the blanket, keeping her eyes on Alex’s face to ensure she had her attention. 

“ _So_ , I like you but you’re _drunk_ , Alex. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning.” 

Alex’s expression darkened dangerously and Maggie froze. 

“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I’m out of my mind, okay? I’m not like others you may have met, Maggie. I meant everything that I said and I _will_ remember it tomorrow. This isn’t some kind of wish fulfillment experiment or some bullshit that I’ll pretend never happened, alright? I _wanted_ to kiss you and I asked you to stay because you _smell_ nice.” Alex huffed. 

Maggie blinked, unable to account for the rapid pounding of her heart.

“I—thank you?” 

Alex sniffed and turned her head away. She pulled the blankets tight around her and curled in on herself.

Maggie shook her head, unable to stop a light chuckle from escaping her lips. She smoothed her jeans as she rocked to her feet—this was certainly an unexpected turn, but she couldn’t bring herself to hold it against Alex. The woman was charming even when she was being petulant and childish. 

“I can’t say I’m not flattered, but let’s take it one step at a time, okay, Danvers?” Maggie suggested as she adjusted her jacket and prepared to leave. 

“Fine.” Alex growled, closing her eyes against the headache that had started to drown out most everything else—her limbs felt heavy and she was suddenly drained of energy. She seriously doubted she’d be able to lift her head to glare at Maggie even if she wanted to. 

Maggie had the strangest impulse to reach down and kiss Alex’s forehead—which was frightening as well as shocking because Maggie rarely allowed herself that level of intimacy with _anyone_. 

But she supposed she couldn’t really be surprised. Alex _was_ different. 

“Alright then—I guess I’ll see you around, Danvers.” Maggie called softly after she heard Alex snore. 

She zipped up her jacket and picked her way back through the apartment, doing her best to be quiet even though she knew Alex was completely out of it. She dropped Alex’s keys in the ceramic bowl near the door and let herself out of the apartment feeling strangely—light, almost giddy as she crossed the parking lot and then stepped onto the sidewalk. It was a bit of a walk back to the bar and her cruiser, but Maggie couldn’t stop smiling. 

She wasn’t sure why. 

By all accounts, she should be apprehensive, tense even. She’d been in this situation before, heard drunken promises like this before. She should be dreading the sobering light. But that just wasn’t the case. 

She was smiling because for the first time in a long time—she didn’t know what the sunrise would bring. 


	56. The Stubbornness of a Luthor

Lena locked herself in her room.

She knew it was in essence an arbitrary action, a petty attempt to regain _some_ control in a life that she still had trouble believing was hers—but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when her cheeks still stung with the shame of Kara’s rebuff. 

Her pride had been hurt—and seeing as she was too tired and too miserable to think of any proper ways to make her _infamous wife_ suffer, Lena had to make do with what she was given. She could deny access. Put up walls. Sever all contact. 

Lock the door and try to pretend that the nightmare around her belonged to someone else. 

Of course the _root_ of Lena’s misery stemmed from a desire for _more_ contact, but that was beside the point.

The _point_ was, from the moment she had walked through the front door, fresh from that abominable psych ward, she had gone against her own better judgement to play along with even the most ridiculous of her _infamous wife’s_ little games. She’d cooked. She’d cleaned. She’d tried to accommodate her friends. She’d tried to be courteous to her quarrelsome sister-in-law. She’d tried to complete all of the chores that were required of her—she’d chopped wood, she’d taken out the damn trash, she’d scrubbed and sanitized the house. She’d even tried to memorize the names of the demon children so she might be considered a good mother! All in the hopes that she would eventually remember some shred of her life—but as she wallowed in her own wretchedness with an ever-expanding _emptiness_ crowding out the hollow beat in her chest, Lena couldn’t help but think it was pretty obvious why she’d chosen to forget it all in the first place. 

She was surrounded by a family she did not know. She was a disappointing daughter. A loved, but undesirable wife. She was a naval officer who couldn’t even take command of her own household! A mother who burned chocolate chip cookies. A wife whose partner slept with the dogs. 

Who wouldn’t want to forget _that_?

Lena huffed and glared up at the ceiling of her bedroom—the bedroom that had once housed a happy and, if Alex was to be believed, _amorous_ couple. 

She had no memories of sharing this bed with Kara—the most vivid memory of touch she could summon was the nervous flutterings of the _infamous wife’s_ hands as she lifted her up and away from the little kitchen fire on her first night back in the house. And that had not even the _slightest_ romantic undertones to it. It had been worry. Concern. _Loved, but undesirable_. 

Eight years of marriage and the best proof Lena had was her wife’s _concern_. Her goddam _chivalry_.

Essentially, instead of taking this opportunity to rediscover each other in a heated mess of new and old passions tangling gloriously together, her _infamous wife_ chose to focus on Lena’s mental well-being instead of her more… _physical_ needs. 

Which was as infuriating as it was endearing. 

Lena turned onto her side and _refused_ to think back to the press of Kara’s body over her own after their humiliating little scuffle because _that_ was going to haunt her for days. Give her something to cling to even after Kara’s scent had faded from the pillowcases and the sheets. Kara was all but a ghost in this room, though somehow more real than the indistinct shadow that flitted like a phantom though Lena’s faulty memory. 

The room was Lena’s alone now, and she hated it. The bed was too big and the damn blankets were still scratchy. 

Was it _really_ so much to ask for her wife to reclaim what was hers? 

To maybe take her hand without looking terrified that their fingers might not fit together anymore? 

To push her into that damn closet and kiss her senseless? 

Or, _God forbid_ , come wrap her up in her big strong arms to keep the nightmares away?

Lena clutched her plush dolphin Rodrigo close and glared at the rosy light of the new day creeping along her ceiling as she ignored the obvious sounds of her _infamous wife_ rising to greet the sun. She was angry with Kara, that was a given, but it was more than that—she was angry at the world, at Fate, at the _universe_ for making her life so _damn complicated_. 

“Lena? Are you awake?” Kara’s knuckles rapped against the bedroom door, but Lena didn’t move. 

She was _not_ going to engage in conversation at this ungodly hour—especially not with the _infamous wife_. 

After the day she’d had yesterday, and the restless, _miserable_ night, she was _at least_ entitled to waking up on her own terms—could she not have that? Granted, Lena had been wide awake for several hours now, but that was only because the _infamous wife_ had quite efficiently and irrevocably ruined her sleeping schedule with her clamoring around and all around happy morning sun goddess-ness! 

“Lena? Will you let me in?” This time there was no knocking, just soft, pleading whispers. 

Lena snorted and pulled a pillow over her head. Maybe she should make a sign. _Keep OUT!_

Lena was not about to forgive the _infamous wife_. 

She needed her anger. It distracted from the sharp sting of Kara’s rejection. 

And the much deeper fear that _this_ was how it would always be. This feeling of helplessness, of not belonging, of being out of time and out of place. Of being _wrong_. 

_God_ , all Lena wanted to be was good—what if she was doomed to be the _one_ bad thing in Kara’s life?

The thought made Lena’s breath catch and she sniffled. 

“Hey—Lena, are you okay?” The door rattled slightly, as if Kara was testing the door for the first time and there was a moment of silence as the blond regarded the locked door—trying to decide whether she should let Lena have this small comfort or drop pretenses and break in to try to somehow console her. She’d been haunted by the sounds of Lena crying late into the night, and it had left her feeling quite miserable herself. 

She wanted to make things right—she just wasn’t sure how.

Lena held her breath and sat up, waiting for the _infamous wife_ to _go away_.

“Lena, I’m coming in.” 

Lena scoffed and rolled her eyes—but then the doorknob started to turn slowly, and it didn’t catch on the latch. In fact, the knob rotated as if it wasn’t locked at all and the door started to swing forward. 

Lena’s stomach dropped, and in a moment of panic she grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it at the door—“No!”

She was putting up walls, damn it! Kara did _not_ get to refuse to kiss her out of _concern_ and then come _barging_ in here on the pretense of _more concern_! 

Lena would _not_ allow it!

Lena glared at the door, her chest heaving. 

Kara only had one foot over the threshold, but when she noticed the murderous look in Lena’s eyes, she ducked her head and immediately withdrew, pulling the door closed between them. 

Lena let out a choked gasp of relief and closed her eyes. 

“Lena, listen—I know you’re mad at me.” Kara began from the other side of the door. 

“But I just, I want you to know that—that I care about you a lot. I don’t—I don’t know how else to prove it to you.” Kara trailed off, waiting for some kind of response, even if it was another pillow thrown in her direction. 

But Lena remained in stubborn silence, her head bowed and her heart stuttering frantically. 

“Lena—please.” Kara’s voice came softer this time. 

Lena shook her head and hugged herself tightly in an attempt to force herself to hold onto her resolve—but the _infamous wife_ sounded so pitiful. Had it always been this way? Had she _ever_ been able to stay mad at Kara for longer than five minutes?

“Alright—okay. That’s fine. Right. Okay.” Kara turned away from the bedroom door and paced for a moment. When she returned to plant herself in front of Lena’s door there was a new set to her jaw,

“Okay. You can stay in there if you want, but I have to go now. Alex should be here around 7:30 for the twins, and the bus should pull in at 7:33. That’s important, Lena. The bus comes at precisely 7:33 and the bus driver will only wait for about two minutes before moving on.” 

Lena rolled her eyes and flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Why should it matter what time the bus came? She had absolutely no intention of leaving this room. 

“I already made lunches for the boys, so that’s taken care of.” Kara muttered. 

Lena huffed through her nose.

Beyond the door, Kara’s eyebrows furrowed together as she watched Lena with her x-ray vision and tried to make a decision—she’d been a coward last night, she knew that. But she just wasn’t ready to _knowingly_ hurt Lena. All it took was one sniffle and Kara was done for—she never wanted to be the reason Lena cried again. 

But it was difficult to remember that when Lena was going out of her way to _ignore_ Kara and blatantly _refuse_ her comfort. 

“Okay, well—I have to go now. Emergency at work.” Kara said. 

Lena rolled her eyes. 

So much for not wanting to _lie_ anymore—what kind of _emergency_ could her _infamous wife_ , the _carpenter_ , possibly have at this hour in the morning? 

Scratches on the dining room table? Unhinged cabinet doors? Uneven piano legs?

“Anyway, I know you’re _terribly busy_.” Kara said as she glared at a completely immobile and _not busy_ Lena, “But if you could wake the boys up _sometime_ before the bus arrives in an hour, I’d really appreciate it.”

That at least got Lena to lift her head, and Kara couldn’t help but grin a little wickedly at the expression on her face. 

“So, I’ll be back tonight. Bye!” Kara called with a wave that she knew Lena couldn’t see even as the raven-haired woman scrambled on the bed, trying to get her stiff muscles to _move_. 

“Kara, wait!” Lena darted across the bedroom and flung the door open, but Kara was nowhere to be seen. 

She swallowed a growl and took off down the hallway, her heart in her throat, but by the time she charged through the front door, there was already a sizable dust cloud billowing up behind the old Chevy truck.

_The infamous wife had run away yet again._

Lena grabbed fistfuls of her hair and swore, a series of curses flying off her tongue until they turned into a high pitched squeal as both furry beasts shot through the screen door and nearly bowled her over in their hurry to chase the taillights of Kara’s truck up the drive.

Lena was still standing on the porch when the two hounds gave up their futile chase and came trotting back down the lane. She stood squarely, her green eyes fixed on the horizon as she breathed in the fresh air—there was the faint tint of salt to it, from the winds off the bay. 

She couldn’t explain it, but something about that smell made Lena incredibly sad. 

Her heart seemed to be keening, _longing_ for something that was so ingrained even her amnesia could not entirely erase its imprint. 

Lena took a deep, shuddering breath—and then turned to go back inside, hugging herself tightly to ward off the early morning chill. 

Everything seemed colder, even the edges of her broken memories when Kara was away. 


	57. Day 9: Getting Ready for School

Lena tried to put it off as long as she could—so she could at least pretend, for a little while, that she was going to ignore Kara’s instructions out of spite.

That for once she was going to be defiant and _to hell with the consequences_.

But when 6:40 came, Lena found herself tiptoeing to the stairs. 

She told herself it was because school was important and she wouldn’t let her children fall behind academically just because she and the _infamous wife_ were having a little spat. But she knew a selfish part of her just wanted to clear the house so she could be alone with her misery. 

At this point, it seemed to be her only friend. 

Lena paused at the bottom of the stairs and drummed her fingers along the banister, considering her options. She could always try shouting and leave it at that, but she was afraid that might awaken more wrath than she could handle this early in the morning—Lena still secretly harbored some suspicions that the boys were at least part vampire. And given the cookie fiasco the night before, she was painfully aware that more than one of the boys harbored ill will towards her. 

She would have to tread carefully—do whatever she could to discourage being bitten.

“Alright—here it goes.” Lena muttered to try to psych herself up. 

She took a few stairs and then paused to glance back over her shoulder. Krypto remained seated on her haunches near the kitchen table. 

“Well? Aren’t you coming?” Lena hissed, narrowing her eyes at the golden haired beast. 

Krypto whined and stretched until she lowered to her belly, making it clear she was quite comfortable where she was. 

“Fine. I suppose I don’t need any emotional support.” Lena muttered, turning to creep her way up to the landing on her own. 

She hesitated at the top, though. Her heart was pounding frantically in her chest and she had to work to calm her breathing. 

The boys were wild. And impetuous. And messy. And their moods shifted so suddenly, usually without provocation. Lena was terrified of them.

She had no idea how Kara managed—actually, she did. Kara was so _sunny_. So friendly. 

_That_ was part of the problem. 

The boys needed discipline, not another friend. They needed guidance—preferably from someone who actually had _some_ concept of the five basic food groups.

Lena reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes—she couldn’t imitate Kara. That just wasn’t an option. 

She had to approach this tactfully—had to command respect. Like Alex.

Just the thought of her no-nonsense sister-in-law made Lena square her shoulders. Alex had a way of—well, admittedly decimating Lena’s self-confidence, but the way she needled her also forced her to question what she knew, and hold that much tighter to what was truth. In a way, Lena thought Alex was good for her—especially given that she had such difficulty holding onto her resolve around Kara and always seemed to turn into a weepy mess around her. She needed Alex to keep her strong. 

Lena took a deep breath and then padded down the hallway to the nursery.

She even tried to walk like Alex, stomping strides and stiff back—it was a little uncomfortable. 

Her objective was to get the boys out of bed and out the front door—and she only had 48 minutes and 17 seconds to make that happen. 

16 seconds. 

15.

Lena paused in the doorway to the nursery, blinking against the rosy dawn glow that flooded in from a diamond shaped window high on the wall.

She had almost forgotten—how peaceful they looked when they were dreaming. How her heart had felt when she’d held the sleeping twin in her arms and somehow found that in her marrow there was written a melody she could rock him to. 

Lena let herself indulge in the serenity—in the quiet. 

She noted that although there were four boys meant to sleep in the nursery, there were only three beds. The two older boys were sprawled out at odd angles on their bunkbeds and the twins seemed to make their nest on a bed without a frame. The boy, Miguel’s, hand hung from the top bunk, his fingers twitching as he dreamed. Lena couldn’t see the rest of him, only a lump of blankets. The boy on the bottom bunk, however, had kicked off his blankets in his sleep and slept with one arm tossed over his eyes and the other stretched over his head as if he were reaching for the stars overhead. The twins, however, were lost to a mess of quilted blankets and pillows on their large bed—but Lena was sure they were in there somewhere. One of them was snoring. 

There were finely crafted cubbies along one wall, but it seemed none of the toys had been put away there. Instead, most items worth preserving appeared to have been left out on the floor—clothes, toys, books and pencils. It was all mixed together and scattered about without pattern or logic. There were textbooks in the empty turtle tank. Pencils sticking out from under one of the pillows on Colm’s bed. The laundry basket was overflowing with an assortment of hockey sticks, tennis rackets, and at least one stickhorse. 

Lena cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. 

The sense of decay, of shabbiness was blatantly obvious in this room as well, with the bare walls exposed—towels and blankets had been stuffed in cracks, and tape had been stretched over electrical wires. 

Lena glanced around with a shudder. _Kara would need to fix this room first, before the cold set in._

“Alright—boys, it’s time for you to get up.” Lena ventured, trying to sound stern. 

There was no immediate response. Not a groan. Not even an annoyed huff. No movement. 

Lena frowned and took a step further into the room. 

“Boys—I’m serious, it’s 6:45. It’s imperative that you get up and—and go to the bathroom and brush your teeth and—and do whatever it is that you normally do in the morning.” Lena said a little louder. 

This time there seemed to be a ripple effect—one of the older boys moved his arm to scratch at some itch on his cheek and the one on the top bunk let out a sleepy groan. One of the twins made a sleepy sound that resembled a mewling kitten. 

The other sounded as if he choked on his snores for a moment until he lifted his head and yawned. 

Lena’s heart leapt in triumph until she felt his shale grey eyes on her and saw how dark the little imp’s expression was. 

“It’s the dragon lady.” Julien growled. 

His dusty blond hair was a mess and there were deep sleep lines on his face from the pillow he’d used. He was still groggy, but he knew those scary green eyes anywhere. 

Lena took a sharp breath, inwardly cringing. 

“Go away—we’re sleeping.” The boy on the top bunk grunted in a scratchy voice, waving his arm idly as he reached up to rub at his face. 

“Miguel, the bus will be here soon.” Lena reasoned, glad that she finally remembered his name, “You boys need to start thinking about getting out of bed.” 

“Ugh! Go away dragon lady!” Julien howled, burying himself under a pile of pillows that he meticulously placed in a square around his head. 

The other twin, Walter, yawned loudly and half-lifted his head when his pillow was rudely snatched away by his bedfellow. He blinked slowly out at the room. “Good morning.” He sighed, his voice so far away and indistinct that Lena didn’t realize he’d spoken for several moments. 

“Oh—right. Good morning.” She stammered, surprised that her heart lurched and twisted at his soft voice—what was it the _infamous wife_ had said? 

_If you’re not careful they’ll steal your heart._

“Where’s Mom?” Walter asked as he rubbed at his eyes. “Mom comes in the morning.” 

“I’m afraid your mother had an emergency in town—it’s up to me today.” Lena explained, fiddling with her fingers. 

“We’re not ready to get up yet.” Colm drowsed from his bunk—he reached out blindly with his foot until he happened upon his wadded up blanket on the floor and he snagged it with his toes, pulling it up to cover his body. 

“Yeah, leave us alone!” Julien’s cackle carried heat, and Lena rolled her eyes. 

“You’re wasting time. The bus will be here soon and you’ve got to be ready or the driver will leave you behind—”

“You’re not our mom.” Miguel grumbled, half-asleep and restless as he tried to find a more comfortable way to find sleep again, his right arm was strangely numb, “You can’t tell us what to do.” 

For some reason, instead of cutting Lena, Miguel’s words seemed to trigger some motherly instinct that would not allow for argument. She was the adult here, and she was not about to let her offspring skip school on the monumental day that _she_ had been tasked with getting them ready. She would not fail. She wouldn’t give the _infamous wife_ the satisfaction.

“Oh, I’m not, am I?” Lena mused with a quirk of her lips. 

She let her eyes sweep over the room for a moment more before she turned and stepped away, humming to herself. 

Even before Lena disappeared, the boys were rousing themselves, horrified by what their oldest brother had said. 

“Miguel!” Colm hissed, kicking up at his brother’s bunk. 

“I know, Mano, I know!” Miguel groused as he dropped down to the floor, looking almost ashen in the face. “Shit!”

“What’re we gonna do?!” Colm demanded, throwing back his blanket to swing his legs out over the floor. 

He reached up jerkily to run a hand through his curls, “You can’t say stuff like that! Aunt Alex will kill us!”

“I know! I wasn’t thinking!” Miguel whispered, clutching at his hair. “Shit, Mom’s gonna be so upset.”

“Now she’s leaving and it’s your fault!” Julien accused, standing on his bed with fury written on his young face. “We should throw you to the sharks!” 

“Who’s leaving?” Walter demanded, waking up much faster now that there was terror in the air. 

“The dragon lady—and it’s all _his fault_!” Julien spat, his cheeks going a little red as he pointed up at his older brother. 

Walter’s eyes welled with tears,

“No—I don’t want her to leave!” Walter argued, his voice still scratchy and pitiful. 

“Well too bad!” Julien shouted back meanly. 

Walter promptly collapsed on the bed, sobbing. 

“Shut up, you guys. What if she figures it out, Miguel?” Colm demanded, rising hurriedly from the bunk in search of his glasses. 

“She won’t!” Miguel hissed, “I mean, she can’t—can she? All I said was—”

“She’s coming!” Julien announced in a surprised shriek just as a rather loud step was heard from the stairs. 

“She’s back?” Walter blubbered, a snot bubble poking out of his left nostril.

“ _Sonofabitch_! Hide!” Miguel ordered as he dove onto Colm’s bed, yanking the blankets over his head. 

In the confusion, Colm sprang onto the bed with the twins, throwing a blanket over Walter while Julien dropped to all fours and scuttled under the bunk bed to hide in among their army trucks and piles of candy wrappers. For a moment, all that could be heard was the panting of the four boys trying and failing to hold their breath, and a strange scraping sound approaching from the hallway. 

Eventually, Lena reappeared in the doorway, several wisps of her black hair free from her bun. She was a little out of breath and she took a moment to wipe the sweat from her forehead and wet her lips.

The energy in the room was completely different. 

It seemed they were all holding their breath, waiting to see what Lena would do. 

“Are you still refusing to get up?” Lena asked calmly, her eyebrows rising in amusement when she saw several boy-shaped lumps under blankets shudder. 

“I’m up!” Walter’s voice came from under his blanket.

“Er—yes! We’re still asleep! Obviously.” Colm’s voice trod over his little brother’s. 

“I thought as much.” Lena said with an exaggerated sigh and a shake of her head. “Listen boys, I’m sorry to have to do this, but your mother asked me specifically to make sure you were up and ready on time, and I would just _hate_ to let her down—” 

As Lena spoke, she carefully maneuvered the hose she had kinked in her hands and pointed the nozzle at the largest of the lumps she could see. 

She smiled slyly as she aimed for the feet poking out from the blanket on the lower bunk.

When Lena unkinked the hose, all hell broke loose. 

Water spurted from the nozzle with a vengeance, dousing everything between her and the bunkbed. Her aim was a little off, but the boy on the bottom bunk cried out anyway and tried to sit up too quickly, smacking his head on the underside of the bunk above. Alerted to their brother’s distress, the boys on the floor bed poked their heads from under blankets to see what was happening and Lena chuckled maniacally as she redirected the stream of water—she was without mercy. 

The boys shrieked in shock and laughter as they tried to dodge her, but there was nowhere to hide—when Julien ventured out from under the bed, Lena squirted him until he screamed “Fire! Fire!” and collapsed on the floor, writhing in a puddle much bigger than he was.

Eventually, the surprise wore off and the soaking wet boys slowly started to gather their senses, rallying behind their oldest brother who had crawled under a steady torrent from Lena to his dresser to retrieve his favorite wrestling mask, to protect his face. 

Lena kinked the hose for a minute, a goofy grin splitting her face as she observed the sad foursome looking as if they’d just been through a typhoon. 

“Are you ready to re-think your stance on the matter?” Lena asked sweetly.

There was a millisecond of quiet as Lena’s words seemed to sink in, as the boys considered whether it was worth surrendering. 

“Get her!” The boy in the mask yelled. 

“Attack!” Another shrieked. 

Lena’s eyes widened as they surged toward her—she had been emboldened with the harmless weapon in her hands, but now confronted with four screaming demon children wide awake and bloodthirsty, she seemed to forget the hose altogether. Her only instinct was to run. 

And she did, screaming as she fled. 

The boys thundered after her, whooping and hollering. 

Lena tore down the stairs, her blood pounding in her ears as she made a break from the front door. Her lungs burned. Her legs too—but she wasn’t about to stop. The dogs were awake and excited, barking and running in tight circles in the kitchen. There were puddles of water all over the linoleum, and the kitchen sink was spurting from a loose connection, but Lena didn’t have time to consider unhooking the hose or turning off the water. 

She ran toward freedom—right through the front door and veered toward the woods. 

The screen door barely had time to slam before it was thrown wide open again.

“Get her!” Miguel shouted again, pointing. “She went that way!” 

Julien let out a bloodcurdling shriek and was the first to jump down the front steps in pursuit—his bare back and chest glittering in the sun as droplets flew from his body. Colm was right behind him, brandishing a pencil and kicking up dirt as he dug bare heels into the ground to run faster. 

Walter trailed behind them, his face beaming and hopeful even though he was soaked from head to toe,

“Please don’t go! Come back!” Walter shouted, his pajamas clinging to his short limbs. 

Lena had never ventured into the tract of woods beside the house before. 

She didn’t particularly have anything against nature save all the bugs and bacteria and all around dangers that may or may not be lurking in the trees and the grass and the rocks and whatever all else had grown wild and unsupervised, but given her current situation, she thought the woods might be the safer bet considering how bloodthirsty her own children were. 

Still—she stayed near the treeline, running until she found a decent tree among all the shrubbery to hide behind. It was covered in leafy vines and gave her plenty of cover. She crouched and held her breath. 

“Where’d she go?” One of the boys called from nearby. 

“Dragon Lady!” Julien’s distinctive voice echoed. 

“That way! She went that way!” Miguel directed. 

“Hey guys, wait for me!” A softer voice wavered. 

“Are you sure she went that way?” Colm’s skeptical voice sounded slightly farther away. 

“Sure, I’m sure!” Miguel shot back. 

“Wait up!” Walter cried pitifully. 

“Don’t be a baby, Walt! Hurry!” Miguel shouted. 

Lena moved a leaf out of her way to peer around her treetrunk. 

She could see Walter jogging down the path, but he paused a few feet from her tree, his head tilted to the side as he looked one way and then another. His blonde hair looked much darker slicked down, and there was grass and leaves clinging to his wet legs. 

Lena bit her lip and carefully maneuvered around her tree so she could creep up behind the small boy. 

Just as he seemed to decide to go left, Lena swept him up in her arms with a triumphant laugh. 

“Got you!” 

Walter squealed, but it was giddy and playful. He squirmed in her arms and threw his head back to grin at her. 

“You came back!” 

Lena didn’t even get the chance to respond because her laughter had immediately given away her position and before she knew it, she was surrounded. 

“Get her!” Miguel shouted. 

Lena shrieked and staggered back toward the house, but she was quickly overtaken. She curled in on herself and tried to cover her head as slimy, wet limbs suddenly found their way around her, weighing her down. Several fingers began to poke her ribs, searching for purchase. 

“She’s ticklish!” One of the boys shouted. 

“Stop that! This is not dignified— _For Heavens sake_ , let me up, you _monsters_!” Lena gasped, breathlessly. 

“We’ve got you!” Another boy exclaimed gleefully. 

“Ahhh!” Julien shrieked as he poked Lena right between the eyes.

“Stop that, that hurts!” Lena pouted, still trying to limp away despite having several boys latched to her back and legs. 

“Don’t let her get away!” Miguel hollered gleefully, and immediately efforts to tickle her into submission were redoubled. 

Lena’s feet tangled over something in the path and she stumbled, effectively crashing under the weight of her offspring. 

She was dimly aware of a car door slamming somewhere beyond the wall of laughing, mischievous faces hovering around her, but she didn’t realize it was real until she heard a cold voice cut through the merriment. 

“What exactly is going on here?” 

Lena’s heart leapt and she found the strength to sit upright so she could thank her rescuer,

“Alex!” 

“Aunt Alex!” The boys echoed excitedly, though only Miguel could really be heard because the others were trying to catch their breaths and stop up the stitches in their sides. 

“Ma squirted us with the hose!” Colm wheezed. 

“Yeah, she got us real good!” Walter grinned. 

Alex eyebrows shot straight up. 

“She did, did she?” 

The red head was wearing a pantsuit and blazer as usual, but there was something different about her. 

Lena shaded her eyes, her smile slowly turning down into a curious frown as she studied Alex’s rumpled appearance. The woman’s hair was a mess and she stood a little more stiffly than usual—and she hadn’t bothered to take off her sunglasses. 

But even more strange—she hadn’t smiled once. Not even for the boys. 

Alex glanced down pointedly at her wrist even though she wasn’t wearing a watch. _Dammit_ , she needed to remember to get a new one. 

“Isn’t it almost time for the bus?” Alex demanded. 

“Alex is right boys. Let’s hustle inside and get cleaned up.” Lena said, clapping her hands.

She was surprised when the boys _actually_ obeyed. 

Julien shot up with a cry of “I have to feed my turtle!” before scurrying away. 

Colm even helped her to her feet. 

“That was fun.” Walter giggled as he started for the house.

“Yeah, can you wake us up like that every morning?” Miguel asked, trudging beside Lena. 

She was surprised to be getting such a positive response—usually even her most calculated and foolproof efforts to connect with the boys ended in disaster. For the first time in a long time—her heart felt _light_ as she walked with the boys back to the house. Colm’s hand was still in hers, and even Miguel stayed close. 

_Is this—happiness?_ Lena wondered.

“We’ll see—I think maybe we should save it for special occasions.” Lena suggested, cringing because she wasn’t sure how her words would fall—she was still waiting for that inevitable shift, for the sweetness in the boys to disappear and for the monsters to jump out at her. 

“Ah, man!” Colm sighed, taking the stairs in one bound. 

Lena blinked—he didn’t sound particularly angry with her. She decided to take that as a small victory and she found herself smiling again. 

Alex stood at the door, holding it open for the little band. 

Lena cringed preemptively, waiting for Alex to offer some backhanded jibe—but Alex simply waved them all through, her expression completely neutral. And with those sunglasses on—Lena had no idea what the taller woman was thinking. 

It absolutely terrified her.


	58. The Stubbornness of the Danvers...Lena's had Enough

“Alex—is everything alright?” Lena asked uneasily, as they moved through the house behind the slow-moving herd of boys. 

She eyed the thermos in Alex’s hand. She supposed it could be coffee—but it could just as easily be vodka for all she knew. 

Alex immediately dropped her head back dramatically, groaning. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?!” 

“Hey, Mom—do you know what time it is?” One of the boys called from further down the hall. 

Lena frowned as Alex slipped her phone out of her back pocket, muttering something about nosy good-for-nothings needing to mind their own business, and showed Lena the time on the lockscreen, her mouth twisting a little mischievously as she watched Lena’s face morph from confusion to sheer horror,

Lena sucked in a sharp breath and reached up sharply to re-secure her bun—

“Alright boys, we’ve got to hurry! 3 minutes—let’s move!”

There were shrieks from upstairs, this time of alarm, as the two older boys kicked their movements into overdrive and tried to yank on dry pants and shirts and socks and underwear without trampling the less hurried twins underfoot. 

Lena hovered at the foot of the stairs, her heart pounding just as frantically. 

“Do you need any help?” She called after two painful seconds flew by. 

The resounding consensus was, “No!” 

Lena fiddled with her fingers for a moment and tried to pace away, but returned to her spot after only another two seconds withered away. 

“Are you—are you sure?” 

“Yes!” 

Lena sighed and ran a hand through her hair, trying to ignore the sounds of struggle from above—there was an awful lot of cursing coming from the nursery. 

Lena turned away after another few seconds flittered by, and she frowned when she saw Alex in the kitchen, carefully unscrewing the lid of her thermos, either unaware of or blatantly ignoring the mayhem around her. Lena’s eye twitched as she strode briskly by her oblivious sister-in-law to shut off the water in the sink to put a stop to the leaks. 

“Could you give me a hand with this?” Lena grunted as she struggled to unscrew the hose from the water faucet. She'd been working quickly and hadn't had time to actually size the make-shift adapter, so it was hardly a tight fit, but it was difficult to unscrew it when it was wet and slippery.

Alex took her time taking a long draw from her thermos, and when she was finished she smacked her lips loudly. 

“Alex!” Lena snapped, impatient. “ _Sometime_ _today_!” 

Alex rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses as she screwed the lid back onto her thermos and set it on the table. 

“Alright, hold on—don’t get your panties in a twist.” Alex grunted.

Lena felt the return of the all-too-familiar sting of her earlier frustration in her cheeks again, and her green eyes narrowed at her sister-in-law,

“The state of my panties is _none of your concern_!” Lena hissed. 

Alex jerked her head up, losing her grip on the hose. “Wha—"

“Momma! Aunt Alex!” A screaming Julien appeared on the landing, clad in only his pull-up. 

Alex let out a sharp hiss and seemed to double in on herself, trying to jam her ear into her shoulder, presumably to block out the shouts of her nephew. 

Lena’s frown deepened—she was a little off-put by Alex’s behavior. 

“What is it sweetheart?” Lena called, stepping away from the kitchen table toward the stairs. 

“Miguel can’t find his English book!” Julien shouted, his grey eyes wide. 

There was a crash from behind Julien, followed by several more curses. “Shit! Mrs. Hendrix is going to _murder_ me!” 

“Fish tank!” Lena instructed, pointing. 

Julien nodded enthusiastically and turned to dart back down the hall to the nursery. 

“Fish tank! Look in the fish tank!” Julien’s voice carried.

“Why would it be in the—"

“Oh my _freaking_ God!”

“Got it!” 

Lena let out a sigh of relief, but then turned her eyes back to her obviously hung over and _completely_ incompetent in the _helping_ department sister-in-law.

Alex was doing her best to roll up the hose, but it was slick and slipped from her hands often. 

Every time she bent to retrieve it, her glasses slipped down her nose and her hair fell in her eyes. 

“Shit!” Alex cursed, readjusting her sunglasses and her hair yet again.

“Alex!” Lena scolded. 

She was more than ready to launch into a tirade, relishing the opportunity to release some of her pent up anger in the form of a lecture on the levity of language, but then she heard the dogs barking. 

She spun around wildly, and sure enough, caught sight of the bus coming down their lane. 

“Boys! The bus is here! Hurry!” Lena pled desperately, clutching the banister. 

“ _Sonofabitch!_ ” 

Colm came careening through the bedroom door first and promptly slammed into the opposite wall. He cried out in pain and Lena felt a terrible lurching in her chest—she hardly noticed that she’d bolted up at least three of the stairs.

“Colm! Sweetheart, are you okay?” Lena cried, her eyes going wide. 

“Come on!” Miguel appeared, snagging his brother’s collar to drag him toward the stairs. Miguel held his shoes in hand. “He’s fine!”

“I’m fine!” Colm promised as he hopped down the stairs after his brother. Their descent was a little slower the second time this morning, as they were both weighed down by large backpacks.

The boys came charging down the stairs and Lena scurried to get out of their way. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Lena called shrilly when she remembered Kara’s offering on the counter. She ran, “Lunches!”

The boys seemed to tumble into each other in the entry hall, but Lena jogged over to them as quickly as she could. They were both panting, their hair starting to dry and sticking up at odd angles. Lena handed the lunchboxes over and reached out without thinking to smooth down Miguel’s scruffy hair. 

“Thanks—this one’s yours.” Miguel panted, reaching over to switch lunchboxes with his brother. He let Colm have the red one. 

The bus honked and Lena tugged her hands away, surprised at herself. She locked her arms behind her back and forced a smile. 

“Alright—you’ve gotta go. Don’t be late.” Lena indicated the door with her chin. 

“Okay. Bye Ma!” Colm waved. 

“Go, go!” Miguel shoved his brother a little to speed things up. 

“Have a wonderful day, boys.” Lena couldn’t stop the words from flying from her mouth—and she didn’t understand it. 

She didn’t understand the sudden desire to clutch them close. The whole point was to get them through the door, wasn’t it? That was the objective. 

It shouldn’t be this devastating to watch them go. 

“Well, would you look at that—two down, two to go.” Alex cheered dryly as she finally wrestled the hose into a circular shape and headed for the pantry. 

Lena turned and frowned at Kara’s sister. 

Before her humiliating and, regrettably, futile tumble with the _infamous wife_ , there had been a ghastly dinner—and at that dinner, Alex had seemed—aggressively aloof. But Lena hadn’t really worried all that much because she had the _infamous wife_ to deal with, but now she though maybe she’d focused on the wrong Danvers sister. 

Clearly the _infamous wife_ was well enough to dash off for emergencies with vigor, but Alex was—dragging. 

Lena followed Alex, choosing her next words carefully. 

“Alex, are you sure you’re okay? You seem—subdued this morning.”

“What’s it to you?” Alex grunted, not even bothering to turn her head as she worked at trying to stuff the uncooperative hose onto a bottom shelf.

“Well, nothing really. It’s just that…I do _so love_ your verbal abasements, and well—today you seem off your game.” Lena observed. 

Alex rolled her eyes and shoved several mismatched items over to make room for the hose. 

“You’re one to talk, _Lena_.” Alex huffed, frustrated, “I’ve never seen you cut it so close before. I mean, goofing off with the boys until the bus is _literally_ in the yard? I’m disappointed. You usually run a much tighter ship. It’s—It’s disgraceful.” 

“See _that’s_ more like you.” Lena praised. 

Alex finally gave up with the hose and let it unfurl into a mess back on the floor. 

She stood with a huff and brushed by Lena.

“Whatever. Jules! Walter! Hurry up, let’s go!” 

Alex pushed her sunglasses back up on her nose and headed back to the kitchen, itching for another pull from her thermos, “Though I am _touched_ by your concern.” 

“That’s right, I _am_ concerned.” Lena insisted, following close behind—she was starting to get a little fed up with the Danvers girls’ complete disregard for her tragic history with alcoholism—granted, it was a history she could not rightly remember, but the hurt was there all the same.

“You look awful, Alex. And this—this isn’t _normal_. I mean, I thought you were acting strangely last night, but now I’m _really_ worried.”

“Last night!” Alex snarled, rounding on Lena, her voice was low, but it shook and was dangerously close to sounding more scared than menacing. “Last night—yeah, okay, maybe I went a little overboard, and I’m sorry about that. Really. But everything’s _fine_ now.” 

Lena rolled her eyes, sarcasm creeping into her voice as the last of the warmth she’d felt at her triumph this morning faded, “ _Right_. You’re _fine_ and Kara’s _great_ and I’m _a disgrace_ , but we’re all just one big happy family, _aren’t we_?”

Alex blinked several times, her eyebrows slowly inching together, “Wait—what happened with Kara?”

“Aunt Alex! I’m ready!” Walter appeared. His hair was sticking up on one side, but he appeared otherwise well dressed.

Alex was flustered and turned her head sharply, her expression morphing into an almost passable smile, “Great…where’s your brother?”

“I’m coming!” Julien wailed from somewhere in the nursery. 

“Well hurry up!” Alex shouted, still trying to gather herself. She rubbed absently at her forehead, trying to stave off a headache. 

“Are we gonna be late?” Walter asked. 

Alex sighed and reached instinctively for her thermos again, “Probably.” 

“Alex, wait—can’t we talk about this?” Lena pleaded, half reaching for Alex in an attempt to stop her from taking another sip. 

“No time.” Alex insisted as she took a swig and then peered through her dark lenses to eye Lena warily, “And trust me, Lena—you’re the _last person_ who could help me.” 

Alex grunted as she moved over to the foot of the stairs and tossed her thermos to her opposite hand so she could fish in her pockets for her keys. “Jules! We’re leaving!” 

“Okay, well then—what about Kara? Couldn’t you talk to her at least?” Lena asked, anger making her voice hard as she moved around the table as well to keep up with Alex. 

Here she was, trying to offer assistance, out of the _goodness of her heart_ , and Alex was being a total jerk. 

Alex seemed to tense and wince all at once. 

“Kara has her own stuff to deal with right now—where is she anyway?” Alex demanded, for the first time seeming to realize that her sister was not around.

“I’m here! I’m here!” Julien crowed as he came running full tilt down the stairs. 

Lena was distracted long enough to note that the twin was wearing a pair of faded overalls—but his arms and chest were bare beneath. 

“Whoa, where’s your shirt, sweetheart?” Lena asked, her brow furrowing. 

Julien shrugged, still a little out of breath. 

“They’re all wet.” Julien explained. Beside him, Walter nodded his head vigorously even though he himself had managed to find a dry shirt to wear.

“ _Gee_ , I wonder whose fault that is.” Alex ground out sarcastically through gritted teeth.

“Alright, fine—I’ll admit I may have overdid it, but at least we had fun, didn’t we?” Lena defended, looking to the twins for help. 

Alex rolled her eyes again and moved quickly to usher the boys down the hall before they could answer,

“Yeah, I’m sure you were a riot. But you’ll have to spare me the details ‘cause we’re in a bit of a time crunch here, so I need you to say goodbye—" 

“No, no, no—wait!” Lena darted forward desperately and somehow managed to wrangle the keys from Alex’s grip while the woman was distracted with holding onto two slippery boys. 

She threw herself in front of the door, determined not to budge. 

“What the hell, Luth—Lena?” Alex stammered in her anger. 

“I’m sorry, Alex, but we really do need to talk about your problem. You need _help_ , and you _are not_ getting these back until you tell me what’s in the thermos!” Lena said around the nervous lump in her throat. 

Alex seemed momentarily taken aback—so much so that her instinct to tackle Lena completely dissipated. 

“What?”

“The thermos.” Lena gestured vaguely. “What’s in it?”

“What does it matter?” Alex demanded, her jaw clenching as she got heated. 

Both Julien and Walter’s eyes were as big as dinner plates. 

“ _It matters_ because last night you were so slobbering _drunk_ that you couldn’t even drive yourself home, and now you come into _my house_ wearing black lens sunglasses and nursing a thermos of _God only knows what_ —” 

“I’m wearing _sunglasses_ because it’s _bright_ out and I have a headache.” Alex stipulated in a dangerously low growl.

“Stop lying to me, Alex!” Lena suddenly roared, the outburst startling everyone in the room—Lena included. 

“All you have done from the moment I met you in that _God-awful_ hospital is lie—you belittle and degrade me for your own entertainment—and I put up with it because _Kara trusts you_!” Lena shouted, her eyes burning fiercely, “Kara _trusts_ you to drive the twins to pre-school every morning, and I suppose it’s never bothered me before, but if you think _for one minute_ that I am going to let you put my babies in the back of that big black _deathtrap_ of yours while you’re like _this_ —you’ve got another thing coming!” Lena fumed.

Alex staggered a step back, as if Lena had slapped her.

Julien’s mouth had fallen open. Walter had both hands clapped over his eyes, as if he couldn’t bear to watch his aunt and pretend mother fight. 

Lena took a deep breath and reached up to brush the fly-aways from her forehead. 

“Now—I’m sorry for shouting.” Lena said this mostly to the twin boys wearing identical expressions of shock and awe on their young faces, but then she turned narrowed eyes back up to Alex.

“I want to help you, Alex—you’ve been under a dark cloud recently, and you keep saying you’re fine, but you’re not fooling anyone.”

Alex said nothing. Her face had gone pale and she stood stock still, trembling slightly.

“And like it or not, we’re _family_ so you can’t just push me away.” 

Lena’s eyes lifted over Alex’s shoulder for a moment and she exhaled with a groan when she saw the time,

“Boys, I’m so sorry for making you late—let’s go out to the car now.” Lena deftly pulled the door open and simultaneously nudged the two small boys through the entrance. Then her green eyes found Alex again and she glared. 

“ _You_ can either come with us so we can talk in the car, or you can wait here until I come back, but either way—we are going to get to the bottom of this.” Lena said icily. 

Having delivered her ultimatum, Lena turned on her heel and marched through the door, across the porch, and through the yard. 

The twins had already crawled up into their carseats and strapped themselves in, looking almost in a daze. 

Lena kept her head high as she strode to the SUV—more so she could take larger breaths than anything as she tried to clear her head. She yanked the driver’s door open and climbed up into the seat—her confidence immediately seeming to deflate when she realized she had no idea how to drive. 

No, that couldn’t be right. She _had_ a driver’s license. Obviously she _knew_ how to drive—she’d just _forgotten_.

The car shuddered and Lena almost jumped when she saw Alex sliding into the seat next to hers. The red-head had already slipped her thermos into the cupholder between them and she smoothed her hair back as she deftly pulled the passenger door closed. 

“It’s coffee.” Alex said while Lena was still gaping. 

Lena squeaked, but otherwise failed to respond in a dignified way. 

Alex reached up deliberately to tug her sunglasses from her nose before turning her head to Lena. Her eyes were a little bloodshot, but not glassy or glazed—more like she’d been crying.

Lena gawked.

Alex frowned slightly and jerked her chin toward the thermos. 

“In there. It’s coffee. I thought it would help me—clear my head a little faster.” 

Lena nodded and swallowed, adjusting her position in the leather seat. 

“Right. Well—” Lena gestured vaguely with one hand, “Is it working?” 

Alex chuckled without mirth and sat back in her seat, dropping her head back against the headrest. 

“Not in the slightest.” 

Lena bit her lip and nodded. 

“Okay, and—”

“Are you gonna start the engine or what?” Alex interrupted, raising an eyebrow at Lena. 

Lena’s cheeks flushed as she heard light twitterings of laughter from the second seat. 

“Right, yeah—of course.” Lena stammered, squaring her shoulders as she tried to hold onto her dignity in the eyes of the twins. She jammed the key into the little slot and tried to get it to turn. 

“Other way.” Alex said calmly. 

“It won’t go—”

“Push down on the brake, then turn the key.” Alex instructed. 

“Got it.”

Alex sighed.

“That’s the gas.”


	59. Driving Lessons Take A Strange Turn

Lena wasn’t exactly a fast learner. 

Neither was Alex the most patient of teachers. 

But somehow, they got down the long, gravel driveway without crashing or burning. Which Alex took as a good sign.

“Okay, so, you’re gonna turn right up here—signal first. Yeah, like that—now, hand over hand, no—don’t brake. You have to get through it.” Alex tried to instruct. She reached out and grabbed the wheel to keep Lena’s arc sharp, to keep her from turning into the far lane and potential oncoming traffic. 

They were far enough outside of town, on a quiet enough road, that there wasn’t actually any oncoming traffic for Lena to worry about, but this was a teaching moment and Alex wasn’t about to let her fake sister-in-law develop bad habits. 

“Well, I _could_ do it if you’d just let me.” Lena muttered. 

Her entire body was tense. She was perched on the edge of her seat, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. Her palms were sweaty and she was sure that at any moment her heart was going to pound its way out of her chest and run away from her.

“Alright, fine.” Alex said darkly, letting go of the wheel. 

Immediately, the car started drifting to the left. 

“Wha—how do you—Alex!” Lena stammered, jerking her hands one way and then the other. 

In the second seat, Julien threw his hands up and shouted “Whee!”, while Walter gripped the edges of his car seat as tightly as he could and closed his eyes. 

“You’ve got to keep it steady, keep it between the yellow line and the white line. It’s the mustard and the mayonnaise.” Alex said sternly, itching to take the wheel herself. 

“What?!” Lena turned to gape at Alex. “What _on earth_ is that supposed to—”

“Mommy! Keep your eyes on the road!” Walter shouted.

Lena immediately swerved to avoid the wooden sign proclaiming the _Best Peaches in Midvale_ stationed at the end of the Howards’ driveway and struggled for a few heart-pounding moments to regain control of the vehicle,

“I’m sorry—hold on, sweetheart, I’m so sorry!” Lena stammered, close to panicking. “Why did you— _why_ did you let me do this?!”

“Because you _said_ you didn’t want me to drive!” Alex fired back. 

“That’s because I thought you were _drunk_!” Lena shouted. 

“Well I’m _not_!” Alex hissed, gesturing wildly with the hand that wasn’t gripping the overhead handhold. “Why does _everyone_ think I’m such a useless drunk? First Lucy, then Maggie, and _now you_!”

“Who’s Maggie?!” Lena demanded, finally getting what she thought was a good grip on the wheel even as she tensed and pressed down more firmly on the gas pedal without realizing it. 

“She’s—she’s this cop that I like, okay! She’s really pretty and she’s really funny, but I totally screwed everything up with her and just—don’t tell Kara, okay!” Alex gasped out in a rush. 

Lena’s eyebrows furrowed together and she turned her head, “Why can’t I tell—”

“Stop sign!” Walter shouted from the backseat.

Lena slammed on the brakes, and the SUV skidded a few inches beyond what would usually be acceptable under state law—but they had yet to enter the city limits. And this particular intersection was quiet this morning. 

For a moment, all four passengers panted heavily—and the engine seemed to shudder. 

Lena was the first to recover. 

She let out a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair as she turned slightly to see for herself that the boys in the backseat were still strapped in and safe,

“Is everybody okay?” Lena asked. 

The boys nodded. 

“Yeah,” Walter said, glancing around, “We are okay.” 

Julien laughed. “You’re crazy!” 

Lena chuckled slightly, her heart was still racing, but then she turned to Alex and her lips turned down into a concerned frown. She started to reach out tentatively before dropping her hand and biting her lip--a little unsure. 

“And Alex? What about _you_?” She asked pointedly.

Lena might not have been able to remember her first date with Kara, or her first time meeting the family, or even her wedding day—she only had memory stretching back a few days, but in that short time she had been around Alex and Kara enough to know that they shared a special bond. There was a deep trust between them, a reliance. 

And if Alex was asking Lena to keep secrets from Kara then—she knew something must be wrong. 

“I—I kissed her.” Alex finally whispered. 

Lena nodded after a moment, trying to hide her confusion, “Maggie?”

Alex’s eyes slid closed and she nodded. “I kissed her.”

Lena nodded again, not quite so deep this time, and bit her lower lip—waiting. 

Alex took a deep breath. Then another. 

Finally she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at Lena, seeming to almost shrink in on herself, as she confessed haltingly,

“It was my first—my first time kissing a—” Alex again made a gesture as her words failed. 

Lena’s breath caught as understanding finally settled into her chest. _Oh._

“A cop?” Walter guessed from the backseat.

Somehow, the child’s voice seemed to break the tension in the compact vehicle and both adults laughed—Alex to release some of the _mess_ in her chest, and Lena at the absurdity of it—never in a _thousand years_ would she have thought she would _ever_ be Alex’s choice of confidante. 

But here they were. 

“Well, actually—you know, yeah—it _was_ my fist time kissing a cop as well.” Alex admitted, letting out a shuddering breath as she turned her head away and swiped at her eyes.

“Oh, Alex.” Lena murmured, tears filling her own eyes for reasons she couldn’t explain. 

She was overwhelmed for the first time in her memory with tender feelings for the woman who was so often the source of her torment, and Lena surged forward, hoping to hug Alex close—

—but, in doing so, Lena accidently removed her foot from the brake and the car inched forward. 

Lena let out a startled shriek and slammed back into her seat, clamping both hands on the wheel and slamming the brake down into the floorboard. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” Lena called amid the ‘oofs’ and curses that came from the backseat. 

“ _God_ , would you _stop_ trying to kill us?” Alex hissed, though she was starting to sound more like herself, more haughty than angry.

“I’m _sorry_!” Lena stressed, brushing her hair from her eyes as she shot Alex a look that was more smile than apology, “ _Someone_ should have given full instructions before we left the driveway.”

“Yeah, well, I _thought_ we were in a hurry.” Alex grumbled, reaching out for her thermos to try to hide the smile that was spreading across her face. 

She didn’t know why she felt better—by all accounts, she still had a blistering headache and her insides were still a mess trying to sort out those fuzzy edges of her memory—but there was something about bickering with Lena that felt— _normal_.

And right now she _needed_ something familiar. 

She had woken up with a flutter in her chest—the taste of soft sighs and even softer lips still clinging to her tongue—it was _different_. But she liked it. 

She had never felt more herself—but as she’d gone about her morning routine, brushing her teeth, flushing her face, making her coffee—that warm and rosy feeling she’d come to realize was _happiness_ had all but stuttered and died when she caught herself reaching for her phone. 

Her first instinct, always, _always_ was to call Kara. To tell her sister everything—about Maggie and her keys and the kiss and just— _all of it_. 

But then she’d remembered, through that happy, rosy haze—Kara’s look of complete and utter defeat. 

The way her shoulders had drooped. The teary sheen in her eyes as she’d chased her down in the hallways outside Winn’s apartment. 

_I already told her._ Lucy had assured Kara. She’d kept an iron grip on Alex’s arm, as if sensing that Alex had a growing list of things she did not want to talk about—and was not above activating evasive maneuvers to avoid talking about said items on said list. 

_Yeah, okay._ Kara had nodded, shaking at least one tear free. 

And even in her drunken state, Alex had wanted to drop everything to hug her tight, to catch that tear before it could hit the ground and plant any more sorrow in their corner of the world. 

_So, Lena’s a—she’s a Luthor._ Kara had seemed to deflate even more as she said it aloud, as if those particular words together cut her to the very core, _Her family’s probably worried sick and I—Alex, I—what am I going to do?_

And Kara had started crying then—with enough tears for an entire garden of regret. 

And it was Alex’s fault—this _whole damn mess_ was Alex’s fault. 

It was her job to fix it—and she’d let herself get distracted. She’d let herself explore these new feelings while her sister was out there suffering and—and she was so _goddamned selfish_. 

That rosy feeling in her chest had come at a cost—and she _couldn’t_ indulge.

She couldn’t be happy while Kara was so miserable. 

_God_ , everything was such a _mess_!

And yet—

And yet, being in the car with Lena, the woman she had essentially abducted and was now deceiving in _every_ conceivable way—it felt _real_. It didn’t feel—part of the _mess_ that Winn and James and Lucy and even Kara, in her own way, were freaking out about. That inevitable reveal. The tearing back of pretenses and the unforgiving barrage of anger and hate and revenge that would _absolutely_ follow. 

All of _that_ was on the horizon. A storm boiling and definitely growing more and more dangerous with every hour that passed—but it was still _out there_. It wasn’t _here_. It wasn’t staring her in the face, looking so concerned and happy at the same time, completely buying into the lies that in some ways seemed shinier than reality. 

Alex could still pretend that the storm was far, far away. 

But Lena—not Helena, _Lena_ —was _here_. 

And for a moment— _for a moment_ , Alex could _breathe_. 

She could push away her guilt and her fear of the storm for _just a moment_ —only a moment. Just long enough to reach inside herself for that rosy memory. To hold it out to the light—to giggle at the way it sparkled and made her feel so warm inside. 

To remember those words and pretend that they still had meaning even if she knew she absolutely did not deserve them, 

_You’re real. What you’re feeling is real. And you deserve to live a real, full, happy life._

“Well, obviously we’re not in a hurry anymore.” Lena tossed over her shoulder, breaking through Alex’s thoughts.

“Not if you’ve— _not_ if you’ve just kissed _a cop_ for the first time.” Lena emphasized as she struggled with the gears—forcing the stick back up into the ‘park’ position. “Because that is—that is a _milestone_ and we need _details_. Stat.” 

Once she had it, Lena turned eagerly in her seat, twisting her safety belt, so she could lean closer to Alex to better express her excitement, “So tell me—how was it? When did it happen? Did you like it? Did she—did she kiss you back? What’s she like?” 

Lena realized she was asking all of these questions too quickly for Alex to respond, so she leaned back a little to give her room to breathe, but she kept her hand on Alex’s leg—she didn't even know when she'd actually reached out, but she thought maybe she was doing something right when Alex didn’t immediately flinch away. She looked overwhelmed—but no longer fearful. In fact—Lena swore she could see a smile creeping across her features. 

Her face was rather pleasant when she smiled. 

“Oh, well, it was—it was…”

For the first time, Lena thought she saw a bit of the family resemblance in the shy way Alex rolled her eyes and chewed on her cheek. It was funny; Lena knew that Kara and Alex were sisters. There were moments she was sure she could even _feel_ it in the air, their bond was so strong it was tangible somehow. But sometimes Lena did wonder—if maybe Alex was a bastard. It was just—standing next to one another, they _did not_ look all that similar. 

It was in their actions. Their _behaviors_ that betrayed their kinship. Like the pout that they’d somehow both perfected. And that power stance that made Lena’s knees a little weak. And the flustered way they reacted to compliments or potentially dangerous situations.

And as Lena watched Alex flush and flounder—she couldn’t help but think of Kara. And her heart ached all over again—had her wife ever been nervous around her? Had that been what endeared Lena to her? And what—what had their first kiss been like? 

“I, ah, _God_ —I just, I just never expected it to be so— _soft_ , you know?” Alex lifted her shoulders in a shrug, but her eyes were bright—it looked to Lena as if she was coming alive right before her eyes, “I mean, I was—God, I was a mess. I was crying and I don’t even know if I—you know, if I actually kissed her lips or if it was more of a—” 

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head as if trying to draw out some crucial element of the memory through re-enactment, “More of a—I don’t know, a ‘corner of the mouth’ kiss?” 

Alex shrugged her shoulders again and gestured helplessly toward Lena—surprised by how much of a relief it was to finally say it out loud. To share this _mess_ she had roiling in her chest with someone. Even if that someone just so happened to be her fake sister-in-law. 

Alex had been bottling it up inside for so long, afraid, but she could _finally_ —finally feel all of that anger and resentment, all of that _confusion_ , just—falling away. Little pieces at first, but then more and more as she sat there with Lena--and she was struck, quite suddenly, with the sense that this moment, this discussion, this entire process--it couldn't have happened any other way. Not with anyone else. 

Not with Kara, or Lucy or Winn or any of her other friends. 

It had to be Lena. She couldn’t say why—not with words, really. 

She just _knew_. 

That there was no way she could disappoint Lena. That opening herself up in this way wouldn’t quash any old assumptions that Lena had of her. That Lena had been trying, ever since that awkward car ride out of Elk Snout, to find a way to connect with Alex, to find all the pieces—because she’d always known she didn’t have the full picture. And it would be painless—to add this filter. 

And Alex _needed_ painless right now. 

Everything else—the confessions and the heartbreak and the storm—everything ahead. Everything she still had to do—it would hurt. She was sure of it. 

Lena looked as if she might say something—might _offer_ something, but just then they heard the twins giggling, and both women turned to look at the boys in the backseat. 

“You mean you _missed_?” Julien asked, incredulous. “You went to kiss her, and you _missed_?”

Walter snorted. “Gee, Aunt Alex—I hope she didn’t get mad.” 

“Yeah,” Julien agreed, looking delightfully mischievous, “because she might have _arrested_ you.” 

“Hey.” Lena scolded, crooking a finger in the boys’ direction, “Cut your Aunt Alex some slack, a lot of people get nervous the first time they try to kiss someone—” 

Lena cut herself off when she realized what she’d just said to her babies, and a nervous pink flush started creeping up her neck, as she remembered _once again_ , that awful, wonderful moment last night when she’d tried to—

“Ah—which is something you can, ummm,” Lena stammered, trying to ignore the way her ache was only growing, “Kissing is something you can worry about when you’re thirty.” 

“Yeah.” Alex chuckled, “Definitely not something you want to worry about for a _long time._ ” 

“Okay.” Walter accepted this mandate easily. He was gazing contentedly out the window, scratching beneath his chin. 

Julien sighed and tossed his head back against his car seat, “Ugh. Fine. I don’t want cooties anyway.” 

“Okay, good.” Lena laughed, sharing a look with Alex—reveling in the way the children seemed to lighten the air they were breathing. Somehow—they made it safer. Gentler. 

“But did she—complain?” Lena prodded after a moment of quiet, “About the, not-so-perfectly-aligned kiss?” 

Alex groaned and leaned back against her seat, closing her eyes against the brightness of the memory.

“No, not at all, she—she was very understanding. About _all_ of it.” Alex opened her eyes to share a knowing look with Lena that was lost on the two young boys in the back seat. “She basically held my hand through the whole thing. She—she let me spill my guts and she just—she _listened_. And she said she’d been waiting for me to—to come to terms with it and she—she just made me feel safe, you know? I don’t know how to describe it.” Alex trailed off, trying to find the words. 

She noticed that a tractor was crawling up the lane behind them and she subtly flipped on the SUV’s hazard lights so whoever was driving it would hopefully take the hint and go around. 

“It was almost like—like she didn’t expect anything, but she—she wanted whatever I could give, you know what I mean?” Alex tried. 

Lena was still smiling at Alex and she nodded gently. 

“She sounds pretty incredible.” 

“Oh, _God_ , yes—she is.” Alex was quick to agree, and her whole face lit up as she got to talking about Maggie. Lena was content to sit back and watch. “She’s just— _God_ , she’s so _smart_ , you know? And she’s tough, and—”

Alex had to pause, overcome with the memory—of Maggie’s smell and the gentleness of her hand wrapped warm and comforting around her own. The brightness of her eyes in the dark. And _God_ , her dimples. 

“Beautiful.” Alex finally breathed, opening her eyes with a dopey grin. “She’s just, so, _so_ beautiful and I—I like her so much.”

“Wow.” Lena smiled. 

Alex took a shuddering breath and glanced away—embarrassed by the shine that had risen to her eyes. 

She swiped at the corners of her eyes as she pretended watch the tractor making a wide arc to get around them.

“Hey—” Lena reached out gently to touch Alex’s shoulder, to draw her attention back to the safety of their small bubble within the SUV. “Just remember that _you’re_ beautiful too. And fiery and intense—and Maggie would be lucky to have you.”

Alex could only stare—surprised to hear such compliments from _Lena_. From the woman she’d been terrorizing quite effectively for almost over a week. 

In all that time—Alex didn’t think she’d had a single kind word for the brunette who was now looking at her as if she wished her all the joy and happiness in the world. 

“Isn’t that right, guys?” Lena asked, suddenly turning with a broad grin to the twins in the back seat. 

Julien looked up from scratching his ankle and Walter cocked his head to one side.

“What’s right?” Walter asked cautiously. 

“Isn’t your Aunt Alex drop dead gorgeous?” Lena asked with a chuckle. 

Walter nodded enthusiastically and shouted his agreement while Julien made a gagging noise and clutched at his throat, miming a rather dramatic death. 

“Alright, alright—that’s enough.” Alex rolled her eyes and shoved Lena’s shoulder a little playfully. She thought the coffee must finally be kicking in—she was feeling a lot better, and ready to _move on_. 

“Alright, fine.” Lena chuckled, turning back in her seat as if preparing to take off, “Now—what did you do?” 

“I turned your hazards on.” Alex said simply, sitting forward to point out the appropriate button, “They flash a warning to other drivers—either to let them know you need help or that everyone needs to proceed with caution, like in heavy rains when there’s flooding or if there’s an obstruction in the road. Stuff like that.” 

“Okay.” Lena mumbled a little hesitantly as she reached out and flipped the hazards off. She glanced up a little furtively to see if this was the appropriate move. When Alex simply leaned back and re-buckled her seat belt, Lena straightened and let out a deep breath as she placed her hands on the wheel again. 

“Okay—so, we’re going into town. Just need to stay between the mustard and the mayonnaise. Got it. No problem.”

“Haha, mustard.” Julien laughed, scratching at his elbow. Walter chuckled too, but was more preoccupied with itching at his belly than what was happening at the front of the vehicle. 

“Always press down on the brake whenever you’re changing gears.” Alex reminded Lena gently. 

“Right. Okay.” Lena murmured. She carefully locked the shift into drive and inched forward through the intersection. 

“Good—that was good.” Alex praised, relaxing back into her seat, “Coming out of a stop, you always want to accelerate slowly.

“Okay.” Lena sounded a little unsure, but Alex kept talking to her, trying to keep her tone soothing. 

“Don’t worry, there are speed limit signs to help you moderate all that. Not all county roads have them, but we’re on the highway now so any second now we should—aha! See?! See that sign? Now you can get up to 45, and up ahead, it’ll change to 50, then 55, and so on.” 

Lena nodded, but her eyes were still a little panicked as she glanced around frantically until she spotted the speedometer, and saw that she was coasting at a comfortable 43. She glanced over triumphantly at Alex.

“I’m happy for you.” 

Alex turned her head, “Hmm?” 

“About Maggie.” Lena clarified, smiling brightly. “I can’t wait to meet her.” 

Alex choked on air, the calm she had felt mere moments before fading completely away in the time it took for her to imagine bringing Maggie into…all of this. All of her mess, _Hey Maggie! I’d like you to meet my alien sister! You might know her as Powergirl! Oh, and these are my nephews! Aren’t they adorable?! They may ask for a pint of your blood, but just ignore them, oh yeah—and how could I forget my fake sister-in-law?! Her real name is Helena Luthor Lord, but we’re pretending it’s Lena Danvers for now. It’s actually a really long story, and it was all my idea…_

“Wha—what?” 

“Oh come on!” Lena groaned, shooting Alex an incredulous look, “You don’t _really_ want to keep something like this from Kara, do you? I mean, this is _important_ , Alex. This is like—this is about _you_ being _happy_ , and Kara will want to be there for you. Every step of the way.” 

“I don’t—ah.” Alex was struggling again with words. 

A car whizzed by, and she had the uncanny urge to jump out and chase it—to run as far away from this conversation as possible. Because now that the novelty of sharing this newfound piece of herself with someone else had worn off—she wanted to shove it back down deep. Lock it up. Keep it from _getting out_. 

Because it was _big_. And _loud_.

And the last thing any of them needed was a distraction. There were already too many hopeful hearts in this equation. 

Now Alex could feel the intensity of that storm pressing against her skin—threatening to breach with just one wrong word. 

And if Alex had to guess, that word was probably _Luthor_. 

“Don’t what?” Lena asked, quirking an eyebrow as she side-eyed Alex.

Alex’s nostrils flared and she tried to look anywhere but at Lena—but watching the road was starting to make her feel nauseous.

“I don’t, ahh—I don’t—”

“Well?” Lena insisted a little sharply as she tried to focus on the turn up ahead—she leaned a little too far and the right wheels ground against the edge of the road and grass for a moment before she corrected. She could see the town now, through the trees. And there were seagulls overhead as they drew closer to the coast. “You don’t _what_?”

Alex could feel the car accelerating, and she could see the stop sign looming ahead. Her throat had gone dry. 

“You don’t _what_ , Alex?” Lena demanded again. 

Alex braced and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t—I don’t _know_! I don’t know what comes next!”

Alex waited, holding her breath—for some kind of collision. For it all to break. 

But there was no collision—just a lurch and a bit of pain when she bit down into her own bottom lip—but when she opened her eyes, they were stopped. And Lena was staring at her. 

“ _What do you mean,_ you ‘don’t know what happens next’?” Lena snapped, incredulous. 

Alex sighed and brushed the hair out of her eyes with a shaky hand. She glanced up out of habit to check on the boys in the mirror, but they seemed fine. 

“Exactly that.” Alex admitted when she looked over at Lena again. She let out a deep breath, and felt her shoulders deflate. “I—I told you before, I kissed her, but other than that—I really don’t know where we stand.”

“How is that—” Lena was cut off when a car pulling up behind them honked. 

“For the love of—yes, I know!” Lena steamed reaching out angrily to pound on the hazard button, “You see?! There, _yes_ , you can go around, this is an _emergency_!” 

“Mom, I don’t think the other cars can hear you.” Walter informed her from the back seat. He was contorted over the cushioned edge of his car seat, trying to reach an itch on his leg.

“Yes, I know sweetheart, Mommy’s just—frustrated. Dammit it. _Fuck_. Just go around!” Lena snarled turning to glare through the back window at the noisy car behind.

“Lena, hey—” Alex reached out, a little shocked—and a little in awe. “It’s okay.”

“No.” Lena snarled, dropping back in her seat with a dark look in her eyes, “No, it’s—it’s not _okay_ , Alex. _Fuck it_.” 

As Lena cursed, she brought down her palm on the wheel with finality, seeming to make a decision, “We’re—you know what? We’re going. We’re going _right now_.” 

Lena reached over and turned off the hazards again, switching from the brake to the gas so suddenly that the car lurched forward and Alex swore they burned a little rubber. She could only grab on and _pray to God_ that Lena knew what the _hell_ she was doing as the car that had started to pull around them swerved out of the way and laid into their horn all over again.

“Where is she?” Lena suddenly asked through gritted teeth as they entered the city limits. 

Alex was almost afraid to ask. Her heart was pounding too loudly for her to hear anything of their surroundings.

“Who?”

“ _Maggie_.” Lena snapped, her eyes never leaving the road. She was only going the designated 45 miles per hour on the city streets, but she looked tense and dangerous. She gripped the wheel tightly and was hunched forward. 

“Oh, umm—I don’t know. At the police station, I guess.” Alex stammered. “At work.” 

“And how do I get there?” Lena demanded sharply as they came upon the first stoplight. 

Lena ground the vehicle to a halt and turned to fix Alex more directly with her probing stare.

“I—Lena, look, it’s okay.” Alex stammered, desperate to sway Lena from this path—preferably before the light turned green. “We’ve already made the twins late enough as it is—I mean, it’s practically time for their snack and afternoon nap, but we can still—”

“No.” Lena growled, waving a finger at Alex as if to either shush her or cast some bizarre magic spell. “No, no, no—we are _through_ just leaving things up in the air, Alex. With just leaving things unsaid. You’ve _got_ to communicate.” 

“But—” Alex started to protest, but Lena wouldn’t have it.

“No buts!” She roared. 

In the backseat, Julien snickered, but it wasn’t quite as bright as his usual maniacal laughter—he and Walter both were preoccupied with trying to scratch away an itchiness that wasn’t going away. In fact—it was spreading. 

“You like this woman, don’t you?” Lena snipped, glaring at Alex.

Alex swallowed thickly, “Yes.” 

“And you want to get to know her better?”

Alex glanced up a little fearfully at the traffic light—but it was still red. She gulped, and somehow managed to keep her voice steadier this time.

“Yes.” 

“Well then, you’ve got to _fight for her_ , _damn it_!” Lena snarled with a ferocity Alex had never seen before—she was suddenly very glad that despite all of her goading, she had as of yet been unsuccessful in making an enemy of her fake sister-in-law. She doubted even having a Kryptonian sister would protect her from Lena Luthor Lord’s wrath. 

“Now,” Lena’s voice was dangerously low, almost a challenge, and she side-eyed Alex, who was gripping the inset handle in the door with sweaty palms. “How do we get to the police station?” 

Alex whet her lips. 

She could feel Lena’s challenge weighing on her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe. And she couldn’t look away. 

Overhead, the light turned green.


	60. Day 9: The Emergency

When Kara had made the decision to relocate her family to Midvale, she had known it would mean a change in pace—she had been counting on it. Had _longed_ for it, even. 

She had been _ready_ to leave Metropolis, ready to get away from the constant threats and the demands of living to serve a city that never slept, that seemed _always_ in some state of emergency—and get away from some _unpleasant_ memories as well. She had no real intention of cutting superhero work from her life completely, but she was ready to commit, to pour all of her time and energy into her boys. Focus on making as normal a life for them as possible. 

And in many ways, Kara felt she had been getting exactly what she’d asked for. 

Life in Midvale had a slow, steady rhythm. It was a town that ebbed and flowed with the tourist season, whose fortune depended on the health of the shoals they fished just beyond the cliffs.

And it was _so easy_ to fall into the mundanity of it.

Aside from LiveWire’s brief resurgence, and the occasional more-out-of-habit-than-necessity patrol through the skies, Kara had had no reason to roll out her cape. 

Her work with the DEO had become almost—an advisory position. Her contributions now had less to do with her fists and more to do with her knowledge of other worlds, her unique _alien_ perspective, and she relished the evenings she worked with Alex in the science division. They worked on alien technologies, not always weapons—sometimes they focused on more practical devices, little gadgets to help ordinary aliens transition to life on Earth. They’d been working on an image inducer for awhile, and even a line of vitamins for those species who struggled to adapt under the yellow sun. 

And Kara found she didn’t mind the change in the slightest—the work felt worthwhile, and the more relaxed commitment freed up a lot of her time for _other things_. Namely, her precarious job search and her family. 

But there were other things too. 

Dreams she had for the house. Reconnecting with her old friends and re-establishing game nights. Apples to Apples was a favorite now, but the twins were simply sharks when it came to Go Fish. Alex had threatened to teach them Poker next. Eliza was only a short drive away, and her famous lasagna was in higher demand than ever before. 

Things had finally seemed to _settle_ , to feel right--

Until Helena Luthor Lord had cruised into town to knock Kara's simple, steady life completely off-course. 

Now everything seemed wrong and backward--like she was living two lives. It was even harder--even _more_ _complicated_ than her life in Metropolis had been. There, she’d taken steps to _avoid_ this kind of duality. She'd been living for an ideal, always Powergirl fighting for justice, and never anything more. It had taken it's toll. Eventually she’d started to feel more like a living sword than either Kryptonain _or_ human.

Which had distracted her from the things she most wanted to forget--that feeling of abandonment being one and uselessness being another. But while her stint of Powergirl had certainly given her ample opportunity to channel her rage, to feel powerful, _purposeful_ \--it had drained her too. Losing Krypton—it had left within her a need to _put_ _down roots_ , to feel _grounded_ on this planet—and her first attempts to do so had ended in complete and utter failure.

But here in Midvale--Kara had hoped to get a second chance. 

And yet--

And yet, here she was, feeling once against as if she were torn in two. Torn between wanting to do right by Lena--confess, come clean, accept her wrath and just stop the lies--and a completely new and selfish desire to hold onto Lena just a little bit longer, to find a way to fix things between them while keeping the falsity in tact because somehow the truth had become a betrayal in itself--ripping away the veil would hurt Lena, and Kara just--she didn't want to do that. 

It was all so--complicated. A mess, really. 

So when Kara had gotten the text from J’onn this morning asking her to come into the DEO, she'd leapt at the chance--leapt at the chance to get away from the headache of the Revenge and back to something _normal_. Something, _anything_ , separated from the _mess_ of her feelings for Lena and the tangle of lies.

She had assumed it would be for another briefing—some news from Metropolis that J'onn felt obligated to share, to put her on standby out of formality, even though they both knew her cousin would rather sink to his knees to beg that vigilante from Gotham for help than ask Kara to leave her new life. 

Kal had respected her decision to step away from hero work, even if Kara suspected he didn't quite understand it. 

He had witnessed firsthand her heartbreak in Metropolis, and when the time came, he had encouraged her to focus on figuring out what it meant to be Kara Danvers, the Kryptonian, the civilian, the mother, the carpenter—whatever it was she thought she needed to be. Though he seemed to have been hoping all along that she would change her mind and return after only a few days away—he knew helping people, _protecting_ their new home—was in her blood. 

But he’d never tried to push her, or guilt her into coming back too soon. 

She hadn’t heard from him in awhile, actually. 

Which was why, she was completely floored when she saw him standing in J’onn’s office.

She had been thinking about Lena again, about how she’d sounded as she sniffled through the night and then how angrily she’d glared at her this morning—she'd been haunted by the smell of plumerias all night long and she was trying not to think about the feel of Lena beneath her and instead focus on the guilt--to try to curb those dark desires--think about how much their situation had changed in those few hours since Winn had broken the news about who she really was, and just how much trouble she was in--when she was confronted with the symbol of truth and justice emblazoned on her cousin's chest. 

“Se’jehb!” Kal called brightly when he saw her—and it sent a jolt through Kara’s system. 

She hadn’t heard her native tongue in so long—it seemed to pierce her deeply. 

Kara’s nostrils flared and her heart started pounding painfully as she blinked at them both—at Kal and J’onn. They hardly ever spoke. 

Kara wasn’t entirely sure why. She’d meant to ask Alex, but had forgotten—and yet, here they were. 

Standing together as if they’d been waiting for her. 

She was immediately on her guard. 

“Kal.” Kara called smoothly, trying for a smile while her insides continued to writhe, “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area.” Kal said easily. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Kara answered, her eyes flitting briefly to J’onn. Her friend looked as taciturn as ever; he wore a deep scowl on his face and his arms were crossed tightly over his chest, in a very closed-off stance. He gave no clues whatsoever as to what any of this was about.

“It’s good to see you,” Kal said warmly, “Lois and I meant to come up for Miguel’s birthday, but we had a—”

“Metallo was on the rampage.” Kara interrupted, her mind still reeling, “We saw it on the news. Congratulations, by the way, on catching him.” 

“Thanks,” Kal beamed, “Metropolis is a lot safer with him behind bars.” 

Kara nodded and glanced up—fighting the urge to fiddle with her glasses when the silence stretched. It was a side-effect of the Revenge--she _wanted_ to be happy to see Kal. Wanted to be care-free and easy around him--but she couldn't stop the fear from creeping up her spine. The fear that his sudden appearance had something to do with Lena. 

She felt like somehow, everything always did. And that terrified her. 

Eventually, Kara managed to swallow around the dryness in her throat and ask, “So, why are you here, then?” 

“Well, it’s—” Kal began, but then cut himself off. He seemed to consider something for a moment, and then sighed, deflating slightly. “Well, do you remember my friend Lex? Lex Luthor?” 

Kara’s blood went cold. 

She swore she could feel the earth stop spinning beneath her feet as Kal continued, launching into an explanation—completely unaware of just how fervently Kara was praying that he wouldn’t. That he’d stay out of it—that he wouldn’t bumble in here with the best intentions and inevitably make things _that much more complicated_. 

“We’ve known each other for a long time. He owns LuthorCorp and he’s had my back plenty of times. Well, his little sister’s gone missing, and I promised I’d help him find her. She’s been at sea with her husband for awhile now, and Lex has this theory that he’s been keeping Helena from coming home.” 

On Kal’s left, J’onn snorted. “Luthor and Lord have never gotten along. Your friend may just be looking for an excuse to take out his rival.” 

Kal only chuckled as if J’onn were making a joke, and Kara felt her stomach twist itself into strange knots, “Believe me, I know Lex is a hard businessman, but this isn’t about that—he’s just worried for his sister.”

_She's safe,_ Kara knew she should say. _I know exactly where she is._

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t breathe.

She knew she should be glad to hear that Lex Luthor was looking for Lena--for Helena. Because ever since Winn had whispered those three terrible, wonderful words, _She's a Luthor_ , Kara hadn't been able to stop wondering about Lena's real family--what they were like. If they had any idea she was missing at all. And it had been tearing her up inside. 

And she _should_ be glad to have an answer to at least one of those incessant questions. 

But she couldn't bring herself to be happy about it--because it only confirmed what she'd already known. She _had_ to tell Lena the truth. As soon as possible. Because if she didn't--someone else could beat her to it. 

And that someone was Lex Luthor. 

“When was the last time he spoke to her?” J’onn asked lowly. 

Kal crossed his arms over his chest and stroked his chin, thinking back, “About two weeks ago. Lex said he and Helena are pretty close, they don’t usually go more than a day or two without talking, but he said every time he’s tried to call her yacht they tell him she’s busy. His brother-in-law refuses to talk to him, and the staff just brush him off.” 

J’onn grumbled at that, but didn’t say anything further, retreating into his own thoughts.

Kal sighed and shook his head, but then turned his blue eyes back on Kara, “Anyway, I’m heading to Spain now to question the husband, and I thought maybe you’d like to come with me.” 

Kara wished she hadn’t heard him correctly, “Wh-what?” 

“Would you like to come with me to question Maxwell Lord?” Kal repeated easily, taking a step toward Kara to drop a hand on her shoulder, “I know it’s not the most exciting case, but I think it might be fun. And I’ve missed you, cousin.”

Kara felt as if the DEO walls were closing in—as if her lies were hurtling toward her in a terrible, jumbled mess, and with Kal holding her like this—she couldn’t even run away. 

“I-I can’t, Kal. I have the boys now—” Kara stammered, her thoughts again going to Lena—to Helena Luthor Lord—if she went with Kal to question Helena's husband, if she pretended that going there might produce the woman she knew was waiting for her at home, that--that would just be too much. That would be--unforgivable. 

“We’ll be there and back in a jiffy, I promise.” Kal laughed, completely unaware of Kara’s inner struggle. 

Kara forced herself to breathe, shoved all thought of Lena and her burning green eyes aside and squared her shoulders as she looked up into her cousin’s face.

“I’ve missed you too, Kal.” Kara managed to say in a steady voice—though she really shouldn’t have been surprised. That much at least was truth. But the rest—

“But I really can’t leave right now. I’m only just starting to make some headway here. Ms. Grant’s offered me a job if I get this big project done right, and the boys just started school—” 

Kal held up a hand, “Wait, _Cat Grant_ offered you a job?” 

Kara nodded, chewing on her bottom lip, “Well, technically. But only if I—”

“I knew you could do it!” Kal interrupted gleefully, pulling Kara up into a big hug. 

Kara wished she didn’t feel so awful on the inside, then she might have been able to melt into it.

But as it was, she only allowed herself to return the embrace at half-strength. 

“Wow! That’s amazing!” Kal hummed, pulling back to give Kara yet another bright smile, “Cat Grant is a tough one to please, so I’m told."

"Well, whoever told you that was totally right." Kara somehow managed to say without losing her smile. 

Kal's eyes were full of fondness as he squeezed Kara's shoulder, "Well, I’d better wish you luck then. I hope it all goes well for you, Kara.” 

Kal released Kara and took a few steps back, “We’ll have to team up some other time.” 

Kara nodded, only dimly aware that she croaked out a, “Definitely”, she was still trying to convince her heart to slow down. 

“Tell the boys I said ‘hi’!” Kal called. 

Kara once again forced her head to move up and down, “I will. It was good to see you, Kal.” 

And then she was blinking against the rush of wind as her cousin took off, his cape flapping once and then disappearing. For a moment, Kara struggled to breathe, to pull air into her lungs when her chest ached so--why was lying so exhausting? 

“Well,” J’onn finally moved, unclenching his jaw and unfolding his limbs, “I’m glad _that_ ’s settled.” 

The DEO Director moved back around his desk, frowning down at a clipboard he took up in hand. 

Kara blinked, frowning slightly as she tried to center herself, “What’s settled?” 

J’onn sighed and tapped the clipboard against his hip as he glanced up again to Kara. 

“That you’ll be sticking around awhile longer. I’ve got reports of some suspicious activity out in the bay. I hoped you and I could check it out.” 

Kara blinked slowly, “You—wait. Kal wasn’t the emergency?” 

J’onn’s eyes glinted, though he didn’t crack a smile, “No. _That_ was an inconvenience.”

Kara nodded, feeling foolish that she'd so easily forgotten that there was a world beyond the Revenge, that she had actually come here for something not Kal or Luthor related. 

"Right, so--what exactly will we be facing?" Kara asked, squaring her shoulders and lifting her head--she prayed it would be something she could punch.

Now J'onn's lips did twitch up into an almost smile--it was as if he'd read her mind, "Can't really say. The fishermen called it a 'monster' in the water--but none of them got a good look. Apparently it was creating some kind of whirlpool that almost sank their boats. It'll probably put up a fight." 

Kara let out a loud breath of relief--this, _this_ she could face. This she could do. 

It was everything else that was so difficult. 

“Let’s go.” 


	61. Alex and Maggie...But Sober This Time

Maggie was having a _great_ morning. 

Even if it was _dragging_.

Five speeding tickets and a collar for an open container. And it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet. 

She’d even gotten some praise from her stony-faced Captain. 

Well, Maggie _chose_ to interpret it as praise. 

He had actually told her to slow down, to remember that _people were rushing in to work_ , and _this isn’t the big city, Sawyer. Out here we give people second chances._

And then he promptly sent her to her desk to finish up the paper work for that open container. Which wouldn't have felt so much like a punishment if he hadn't already been rounding up half the squad to go investigate some 'unnatural disturbances' out in the bay. 

But such is life. 

Maggie had done her due diligence, and now she had to document it.

The kid was a first offender. Driving his daddy’s Buick, and he’d actually teared up when Maggie had asked to see his license and registration. 

She hadn’t even cuffed him that hard. 

And _yes_ , Maggie knew people _deserved second chances_ but this kid should be in school on a Wednesday morning, not out racing down the pier, swigging a flat BudLite. 

He’d be out with a warning, probably not even a fine. 

And _no_ —Maggie still hadn’t heard from Alex.

But it was still early. 

And _maybe_ Maggie had collared the truant teen with the Bud after she’d driven by the pre-school—several times—and failed to see a familiar black SUV muscling its way up the hill. And _maybe_ she had taken her disappointment out on those harried, every day late-risers who were just trying to get to work on time—and _maybe_ they didn’t deserve it. 

But Maggie had awoken to sunshine and that hopeful skip still in her step. And she’d tried— _honest to God_ , she’d _tried_ not to check her phone every five minutes, but the hours had trickled by so slowly, and that strange, nervous energy in her bones just wouldn’t let up. She’d needed to turn it into action, into positive action—and so _fine_. _Yes_. _Maybe_ she’d been a little _overzealous_ on the streets. 

But she needed _something_ to distract from her racing heart. 

_God_ , she hadn’t been this nervous since High School.

But the stakes were _so much higher_. 

Maggie groaned and rubbed at her temples, the paperwork momentarily forgotten.

She’d _almost_ been okay with it—with giving up all thought of Alex. She’d tampered down her curiosity and been willing to move on. She’d been okay with letting things drop before it got any more dangerous—but then, _then_ Alex had pulled her right back in, and suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about her. 

About her hopeful little half-smile. And those adorable camo pajamas. And the way she’d—she’d _gasped_ when Maggie had kissed her. 

As if she’d been surprised and— _grateful_ , at the same time. And she’d tightened her grip, as if she couldn’t bear to let go. 

Maggie closed her eyes and tensed—fighting the urge she had to just call Alex herself. She _wanted_ to. And the with the squadroom so empty, it wasn't like there was anyone around to stop her--or judge for that matter. It was all very tempting. 

She wanted to put an end to this guessing game. To this insufferable waiting. She needed, for her own sanity, to find out once and for all if Alex remembered anything about last night. About—what had been whispered in the dark.

But Maggie couldn’t bring herself to do it.

She forced herself to breathe in and out. In and out. 

She needed to remind herself that she had been the one to tell Alex to slow things down, to take her time, to feel things for herself. And maybe—maybe that meant Alex wasn’t ready to reach out. Maybe she wouldn’t be for days. 

Maybe even longer.

She needed to accept that. 

Accept that maybe that kiss had been—just a _one time thing._

_God,_ her heart plummeted at that thought—which presented its own set of problems. 

She needed to stop being so fucking selfish. She wanted Alex to feel comfortable in her own skin, to own who she was. 

And Maggie had already had this discussion with herself about _not chasing_ Alex, and she needed to listen to her own goddamn advice, and just _wait_. 

Be patient.

_Let her make the first move, Sawyer._ Maggie reminded herself, shaking her head as she took up the report again. _She’s still new to this. She’s going to need time—_

“Sawyer!” 

The summons came so suddenly that Maggie almost jammed her knee when she tried to jump to her feet without fully pushing away from her desk. The two or three rookies that the captain had left behind looked up from the game of office basketball they were playing with the trashbin--and then gaped at the brazen red-head pushing dramatically through the front double doors. 

Maggie’s heart did a double flip. Maybe a triple. 

She could feel a grin splitting her face, as she stared at precisely the woman she’d been wanting to see. 

_Maybe wishes do come true_ , Maggie thought as she forced her chair back so she could stand. All of the morning’s frustrations were suddenly forgotten the as she took in the sight of a confident and fiery Alex Danvers zeroing in on her with a purpose.

Alex hadn’t looked away from Maggie for one second. She had called out her target and practically breezed into the squadroom, her brown eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. 

Henry, at the front desk, had been just as surprised as Maggie at first, startled and untidy, but he recovered himself enough to reach out a cautionary arm as if to bar the woman from entry. 

“Now hold on, Miss—” Henry reached with his other hand for the visitor’s log, about to ask Alex to sign in.

“FBI.” Alex flashed her badge and sidestepped the keeper of the keys in one fluid motion, somehow managing to keep her stride. 

_Shit._ Maggie thought as her knees went a little weak. She had to lean against the edge of her desk, but she crossed her arms over her chest in the hopes of making it look intentional, _God_ , that woman was hot when she was on a mission. 

Alex could feel all eyes on her, but she refused to falter—even if her legs felt like jelly. Lena had talked her up in the car for a full fifteen minutes for this—and she wouldn’t be able to show her face if she messed it all up now. 

She came to a halt a good five steps away from Maggie—afraid that she’d combust if she got any closer. 

Maggie Sawyer was just as beautiful in the sunlight. And she looked even more intimidating in her uniform, all sharp creases and shiny gold buttons. But even though the woman was smirking at her, Alex could see her dimples.

And she could feel those same butterflies starting to flitter in her stomach that had made themselves known the first night Alex had ever laid eyes on Maggie Sawyer in the bar. She swore she would find some way to be more articulate this time. 

Alex took a sharp breath through her nose, fighting down the blush she knew was trying to creep up her cheeks. 

“Maggie.” She somehow managed to say. 

“Agent Danvers.” Maggie drawled back, “What can Midvale’s Police Department do for you today?”

“I’m taking you to dinner.” Alex said bluntly. Someone behind her sputtered on day-old coffee, but Alex didn’t look away from Maggie’s face. 

“Tonight.” Alex continued in an even tenor, “Not at the bar, but at a real restaurant this time. I mean—if you’d, umm—”

Alex seemed to falter for a moment, but Maggie’s bemused expression had slowly softened and she tilted her head slightly to the side—silently encouraging Alex to go on. 

It was all Alex needed. 

She took another breath, her lips twitching up into a smile as her stony expression cracked—her forced calm melted into a bit of vulnerability and she lifted her shoulders a little shyly,

“I mean, if you’d like to. I’m—I’m here to ask you on a date.” 

There were a few impressed whistles and catcalls from across the room, and Maggie glared over Alex’s shoulder at those damned rookies until they at least pretended to find an interest in something else. Maggie cleared her throat and shifted her weight slightly as she turned her dark eyes back to Alex. 

She smiled gently.

“I think I would like that.”

Alex immediately perked up, even if her mouth appeared to drop open a little in disbelief.

“You would? Really?” 

Maggie rolled her eyes, chuckling, and nodded again. “Yes. Of course I would. I told you last night, Alex—I _like_ you.” 

There were a few guffaws from the little band of onlookers, and Maggie swore she heard someone gasp, _Awww, Sawyer has a crush_ , but this time Maggie really couldn’t care less because Alex was practically beaming. And it made Maggie’s insides melt to see her like that—to know that _she_ did that. Maggie had put that smile on her face. 

“Right. Yeah, I—I remember that. And I still like you, so—”

“So?” Maggie quipped, raising an eyebrow, letting her eyes rake Alex up and down. _Yes_ , it made her heart melt when she got to see Alex smile like a contented puppy—but she also couldn’t deny that she absolutely _relished_ making her blush.

“So, I—ahh,” Alex floundered for only a moment. When she caught the teasing lilt to Maggie’s smile, she stiffened and narrowed her eyes. “Right. So, it’s time we make it official. I’ll come for you at five—”

“I get off at five thirty.” Maggie interjected casually.

“I’ll pick you up at six fifteen.” Alex amended with a curt nod. She turned as if that was all she had to say, but then hesitated and turned back with a thoughtful look on her face. It was her turn to let her eyes rove up and down, “Wear something nice.” 

Then Alex turned and started to walk away. 

Maggie’s heart was hopeful and skipping again. She wanted to laugh. To cry. To shout out loud. 

This was _exactly_ what she’d hoped for, and _so much more_. 

But she couldn’t let Alex have the final say. 

Not after the stressful morning she’d had. _No way_ _in hell_.

“I don’t know,” Maggie called, loudly enough that Alex could _absolutely_ hear it as she strode back through the squad-room, “That’s kind of a tall order, Danvers—I don’t know if I can look nice _and_ smell nice at the same time.” 

Maggie smirked when she saw Alex freeze, and her shoulders slightly tense. 

“If you had to choose,” Maggie drawled and let a pregnant pause fill the air until Alex finally turned to look over her shoulder. Maggie lifted an eyebrow, “Which would you prefer?” 

Maggie could see Alex’s jaw working, as if she were trying to find something to say—anything really, as the young officers around the room tried, rather unsuccessfully, to hold back snickers and wide, knowing grins. But in the end, all Alex managed was a half-strangled giggle before she fled. 

Maggie was going to cherish the look of her pink-tinged ears for the rest of the day. 

“Damn, Sawyer—even when you flirting, you cruel.” One of the rookies called as he lifted his boots back up onto his desk. 

“Oh, I don’t know—Alex has always been pretty tough. I think she can handle it.” Maria Ramirez, a longtime friend of the Danvers family and the Captain's personal secretary, observed as she filled a styrofoam cup with coffee. She'd been drawn from her desk when she heard the front door bang, and had watched everything unfold with a bemused smile from the doorway. 

“What was her name?” Henry called, latching onto the conversation as he took a pen and held it over the logbook, “Maggie’s girlfriend is Alex who?” 

“Danvers!” The little band of an audience shouted back. 

It became a sort of chant that the rookies took to with enthusiasm.

“Sawyer’s got a girlfriend! Alex Danvers is Maggie’s girlfriend!”

And Maggie wasn’t even tempted to tell them to shut up. 

Today was a great day.

And tonight—was going to be _even better_.


	62. A Cure for the Itch

Lena had been pacing on the sidewalk next to the car for only ten minutes, but it felt like _ages_.

 _Please_ , she begged God and whatever angels were listening, _Please let this work for Alex._

She couldn’t explain why, but she felt, somehow, that if things went well for Alex, then maybe— _just maybe_ , that good luck would rub off on her. 

Maybe if Alex could win Maggie’s heart, then Lena could find the courage to fight for Kara’s. 

“Here she comes!” Walter crowed, drawing Lena’s thoughts back from the heavens. 

“Aunt Alex!” Julien chirruped as well. 

Lena spun as quickly as she could, her own ponytail almost smacking her between the eyes. 

“Alex? What happened? Are you alright? What did she say? Alex? Alex?” Lena had darted halfway up the steps, but stopped when she saw Alex pause on threshold of the police station. 

“Alex?” Lena whispered, taking in the bright pink flush to her cheeks and the almost— _panicked_ look in her eyes. 

Her heart sank.

“Oh no,” Lena murmured.

But then, Alex seemed to finally get a full breath and the tension left her shoulders. 

Her eyes lowered to Lena and a crooked smile slowly stretched across her face. 

“She said yes!” Alex announced triumphantly, loud and proud. 

There were cheers from the twins, and Lena clapped her hands together in delight as her heart shuddered with relief. 

“That’s great, Alex!” 

“I did exactly like you said,” Alex recounted as she practically skipped down the steps. She was still a little giddy—in awe that she’d actually done it. 

She’d asked Maggie out—and Maggie had _said yes_!

“I was direct and to the point—I might have lost some steam there for a second when she hit me with those dimples, but I let her know exactly what I wanted and it didn’t completely blow up in my face!” 

“I knew you could do it.” Lena praised, opening her arms for a hug quick when Alex got close enough. 

She wasn’t surprised in the slightest when her sister-in-law only allowed for the briefest of contact, but she could feel the appreciation all the same in the way Alex pulled her close with the one arm she allowed, in the way she pressed her forehead to the side of Lena’s head for a brief moment, ensuring that they were connected as completely as possible. 

“Thanks.” Alex murmured.

“Anytime.” Lena whispered back even as she felt Alex already pulling away. 

The taller red-head was clearing her throat and putting distance between them, moving on—but Lena didn’t truly mind. Something had changed between them; she could feel it. She suddenly felt—so much _lighter_. 

“Have you thought about where you’d like to take her?” Lena asked casually as she followed Alex down the last few steps to the car. 

“Yeah, there’s a pretty nice restaurant down on the pier that does candlelight and mood music and stuff. Kara and I’ve taken our mom there for Mother’s Day a few times.”

“Oh.” Lena frowned slightly as she drew up alongside Alex next to the open door of the SUV. 

This was the first time any thought to Kara’s parents had crossed Lena’s mind. She didn’t know why. 

Maybe it was because Kara already seemed so surrounded, by such a strong network of friends and with Alex such a constant presence—she supposed she just hadn’t considered the possibility that there could be _more_. More strangers she had to meet all over again. More awkward conversations about events she could not remember. About a past that seemed built on glass. Fragile. 

More sympathetic looks and unease. More worries. 

_God_ , what if Kara’s mom didn’t like her? What if she had caused some kind of discord in this seemingly perfectly normal family? Alex practically lived with them, never failing to arrive at the break of dawn or crisis, but what about the woman who had raised Lena’s wife? Why hadn’t she been by the house? To see her or the boys? Had Kara—

Had Kara asked her to stay away? 

And what about Kara’s father? Where was he?

“Good job, Aunt Alex.” Julien praised, drawing Lena out of her spiraling thoughts, “Get a date, you did.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” Alex grinned as she reached out to playfully land a soft punch on her nephew’s arm. 

“Sweetheart, don’t scratch at that.” Lena murmured as she leaned into the car to reach over Julien and catch Walter’s wrist. The toddler had clearly been at it for awhile, there was an angry red patch under his chin. 

“But it itches.” Walter sputtered, already reaching under his shirt with his free hand. 

Lena frowned, and gingerly reached toward Walter.

“Where, baby?” 

“Everywhere.” The twins said together. 

Lena’s heart stopped in her chest as she finally worked Walter’s shirt up and away from his rounded belly. 

“Oh my God—Alex. Alex, look at this.” Lena only just managed to keep panic from her voice as she leaned back to give Alex room to crane her neck in. 

“Oh shit.” Alex murmured as she practically crawled into the back seat beside Lena. 

“What?” Lena demanded, her voice hoarse with panic as she turned toward Alex and clutched at Walter’s small fist—there were tears of desperation in her eyes. “What is it?!”

Walter’s stomach was covered in raw, red patches. Clusters of raised bumps that had clearly been irritated and made worse. They were everywhere, blossoming right over the toddler’s torso and climbing up his neck—there were several on his arms and legs as well. 

“Hey, it’s not that bad.” Alex said quickly, even as her eyes darted to Julien and she saw him itching just as fiercely as his brother had been. “It’s just poison oak—”

“Poison!” Lena squeaked, the first tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. “Oh my God—" 

“Hey, cut that out, Jules, you’re gonna—” Alex reached out to swat at her nephew’s hands, but the damage had been done. 

“Whoa. Bleeding, I am.” Julien croaked, more in fascination than pain, as he held out his arm toward Lena where a thin trail of blood had begun to ooze from the picked over rash. 

And suddenly, Lena was crying. 

And Walter, the most sympathetic of criers, was suddenly crying too. 

And Alex cursed under her breath as she once again had to bottle away that rosy bit of happiness in her chest so she could focus on what was more important. 

She snagged the keys from where Lena had dropped them and shimmied out of the door.

“It’s okay. It’s fine, okay? Just hang tight and I’ll get us to the—”

“Hospital!” Lena shouted desperately. She was cradling Walter’s head as best she could around the restraints of the car seat and stroking Julien’s arm. 

Alex had to fight not to roll her eyes—it helped that she had a moment after slamming the back door to jog around to the driver’s side and focus on jamming the keys into the ignition. Lena’s near hysterics would have been funny if it weren’t all so surreal—this was twice in one day that Lena had shown just how attached she’d become to the boys. 

And Alex wasn’t sure what that would mean later—when the storm broke overhead.

“Lena, it’s okay. It’s just a little rash. All we need is some Zanfel—maybe some calamine lotion too.” Alex tried to soothe as she turned the engine over and twisted in her seat so she could check behind them before pulling out. 

“Are you sure?” Lena asked, sounding a little hesitant. 

“Yeah, it’s no big deal. Trust me, I’ve had it loads of times. It’s super treatable—” Alex could hear the sniffles from the back seat slowly starting to subside, so she kept just kept talking, soothing in the best way she knew how, “One time, at summer camp, I got it all over my back. A lot of us did, from playing soccer in this overgrown field, and Kara was the only one who didn’t get it, so she ended up having to play doctor for the rest of the week, helping me get to all of those impossible places I couldn’t reach and it was a pain, but it was gone by the last day of camp. And another time, we were out on the lake…”

Alex kept talking all the way to the local drugstore, and then she only paused long enough to run inside to snag the medicine she needed. 

As soon as she was back in the driver’s seat, she was talking again. Telling Lena about the time she’d had it all up and down her neck. And another time she’d gotten it between her toes. About her friend Vicky who’d gotten it all over her torso, boobs and all. And about that time Winn had thought he’d test Kara’s claim that she was immune by picking a bunch of poison ivy and rubbing it in her sister’s face—a dumb idea that had left him with a bad rash that had lasted twenty-three days even though he’d been wearing gloves, while Kara got away without even a tickle in her nose. 

And by the time they made it back where they’d started the morning, with the boys almost completely undressed and Alex itching for something stronger than coffee—Lena seemed to have calmed down considerably. 

Enough that she wasn’t completely useless in wrangling the twins.

They were crammed into that broom-closet of a bathroom, working as a team. Alex attacked first with a wet cloth, showing Lena where to rub in the bright pink medicine. And Lena followed with a steady hand. In no time at all the boys looked like little pink-spotted leopards. 

“There you go, baby—how does that feel?” Lena asked Walter as she spread the lotion over several of those angry red bumps on his knee. 

Walter cocked his head to one side and swung his leg back and forth, “Good. It doesn’t itch anymore.” 

“Good.” Alex sighed in relief. She tossed aside the washrag and gently pried the bottle of lotion from Lena’s greasy fingers, “And what about you, Jules? How’re you doing?” 

“Better, I am!” Julien croaked in his Yoda-voice. 

“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” Lena asked, “It’s after noon.”

She reached out for good measure to press the back of her hand to Julien’s forehead, but then realized that she had absolutely no idea why. 

She very much doubted the validity of trying to gauge the child’s temperature by the press of her own flesh—and she had no idea what had led her to believe a reading of that nature could give her any clues whatsoever as to the state of his belly. But it had almost been a reflex. A need to establish contact, even if she knew it was flawed method of data collecting—but perhaps it had more to do with offering something like comfort, like a sure, steady presence. 

Either way, she was grateful when Alex cleared her throat.

“Right, I can order some Chinese, but we should probably get these guys down for an N-A-P soon—” Alex started as she looked for a place to store the medicine. Kara had plans to widen the bathroom and install some shelving, but right now there seemed nowhere out-of-reach enough for Alex’s liking. 

“Hey! We can spell, you know!” Julien snapped, crossing his pink-splotched arms over his pink-splotched chest.

“Yeah!” Walter agreed, looking just as rumpled and pathetic as his twin, “And we want potstickers, not a _can of peas_ , Aunt Alex.”

Alex blinked slowly.

“Okay, well, _I_ think that potstickers might not be the best thing for you right now, my darlings.” Lena crooned as she helped Walter down from the sink. She pulled Julien close too and set him just as gingerly down. “But you know, chicken soup is always good for when you’re feeling crummy. I know a really wonderful recipe—” 

Lena paused for just a moment as she was herding the twin boys through the bathroom door, a puzzled look flashing very briefly across her features. 

“At least—I think I do.” 

Alex coughed a little too obviously to try to distract from that confused, almost aching look that had come over Lena’s face as she struggled to remember what might not ever have been—and Alex was surprised at the bit of guilt she felt. 

Was she going soft? 

Just one afternoon, one heart-to-heart with Lena and suddenly she felt sorry for the woman who’d nearly cost Kara her living? 

_No_ , Alex realized with a jolt as she thought again of those tears Lena had cried in genuine terror over the hurts of the boys, and the concern she’d voiced for Kara the night before when Alex was too drunk and too miserable to listen— _she’s not that woman anymore_. _Whoever that was—this is our Lena._

“Right, well—” Alex stammered, trying to shove down that protectiveness that had flared all over again. It scared her a little. 

She gestured half-heartedly toward the door, “Let’s see what we have in the kitchen, then, shall we?” 


	63. Day 9: The Making of Soup

They really didn’t have much in the ‘let’s make chicken-soup from scratch’ department. Alex knew this intuitively, knew that the refrigerator was full of take-out containers and the occasional juice box, but she relegated herself to the kitchen anyway while Lena took the twins into the living room to get them started on a movie. 

She committed herself to rooting around in the cupboards for things like chicken stock and vegetables—the essentials. 

It gave her a sense of purpose, of being useful, even if she knew she was only stalling, trying to put off a deeper conversation she needed to have—well, _a few conversations_ , actually. 

Which would normally be a warning sign, really—because Alex didn’t _stall_. She was trained to act, to attack, to make a plan and follow through. She didn’t _put things off_. Not unless she was avoiding something deeply personal and/or confusing. (Like Maggie, for example. _God_ , those dimples had really thrown her for a loop. But the point was _that_ had been unexpected, an irregularity, and was _in no way_ representative of her normal.) 

But despite all of her training, despite all those years of experience supposedly meant to prepare her for high stress situations—Alex found herself in the kitchen, randomly opening and closing drawers and cabinets, _stalling,_ because she couldn’t bring herself to take that next step. To just _pick up the phone and call her sister_. 

Because—where would she even start? 

_Hey, Kara, the twins are home with poison oak—_

_So listen, Sis, Lena and I have been hanging out, and, well, she’s actually not as awful as I thought—_

_I know we’re only supposed to have seven days left but we may have a problem. Several problems actually—_

_Lena helped me get a date—_

_Hey, Kara, I know I’ve been kind of difficult to be around lately and I just want to say I’m sorry because I kinda had a mid-life crisis but your fake wife helped me sort it out—_

_I just thought you should know—I’m gay—_

God, there was just _so much!_ Too much for a phone call. Too much to get out all in one breath.

Alex sighed and shoved one drawer shut to move on to another, mechanically running her hands over various cans of spice and herbs without even really registering their shape. She’d long since forgotten what exactly she was looking for.

Alex really _hated_ keeping secrets from Kara. 

It was like she’d lost a limb—was hobbling along on one leg. Still functional, but robbed of her precision and balance—pretty pathetic.

But she couldn’t stop now. 

Couldn’t stand still because she _needed_ to trick herself into thinking she had a purpose. An _objective_. That she wasn’t just _stalling_. 

So she moved manically around the kitchen, only half there. Because her mind was already spinning and she was off-balance, and she was doing her damnedest to avoid that godawful storm that she could practically _feel_ inching closer and closer.

_God_ , she could practically taste the stormclouds and feel the electricity in the air—demanding her attention. Her concession. Her _surrender_. 

Demanding that she own up to her mistake and—

And it was such a hard thing to accept—that she had let things get _out of control_.

It was definitely something Alex Danvers would normally _never_ admit to, not even on pain of death, but—but her shifting feelings toward Lena only confirmed it. Confirmed that somehow Alex’s _genius idea_ had morphed into something too big for her to handle. 

It had gotten tangled up with _everything_ else—her future with Maggie, her ability to focus at work, her relationship with her sister and even the way she saw _herself._ She couldn’t just wish it away or ignore it anymore—not when Lena had somehow poked and prodded and chiseled away right into the bedrock, the very foundation of the Danvers superfamily. 

Which meant—Alex was having _some thoughts_.

Some scary and _surprising_ thoughts. 

Like that bone-deep feeling of stitching something that had been torn asunder back together again, that thrill of accepting and belonging, that surety that _she’s ours now_ —what the _hell_ was that all about? 

And _why wouldn’t it go away_?!

It was _baffling_ —and made Alex a little uneasy as she stared down dejectedly at a can of five-spice, not even sure why she’d picked it up. 

Because it couldn’t bode well. Any of it.

The fact that for better or worse, they were all bound together now. Because Lena couldn’t seem to stop herself from taking care of her family, even if she had no goddamned idea what she was doing—last night she’d worried about Kara and this morning she’d spent the better part of the morning forcing Alex to open up—and then there was the whole poison oak debacle where the woman had nearly made herself ill with worry for the twins—and Alex could see that her persistence was rubbing off. Hell, she herself felt a grudging shift in her feelings for Lena, and the boys seemed to have eased off on their usual stunts. And _Kara_ — _God_ , Alex still couldn’t stop thinking about the way Kara had broken down the night before, about the way her main concern was still to keep the truth from hurting Lena. 

It was just—a mess.

“Is there any way I can help?” 

Lena’s voice broke through Alex’s thoughts and she was so completely taken off-guard that she dropped the tin of five-spice.

Alex watched it roll across the floor and bump against one of the legs of the table—only then did she think to breathe.

She shook her head to clear it and turned her back to open the fridge. 

“Yeah, I think we have enough to get started,” Alex mumbled as she stared dispassionately into the depths. 

Soup. They were going to make soup. 

That was the objective.

Everything else could wait—until when, Alex had no idea. She just had to get through one task at a time—hour by hour. 

She tried not to think about what was _next._

“There’s some chicken in here that hasn’t gone bad yet and plenty of broth in the pantry, but it would help if you could cut up some vegetables while I get the base started…” 

“Assuming we actually have vegetables hidden in there somewhere.” Lena muttered from where she was peering over Alex’s shoulder with her nose wrinkled a little in distaste at the vast array of moldy take out containers.

Alex sighed and cocked her hip to the side as she pushed a few boxes one way and then another. 

“Well I guess we’ve been a little lax in stocking up necessities lately.” She let out a breath of relief when she finally found some carrots stuffed toward the back. “We’ve all been—a little busy.” She had to ground out that last bit—knowing it was an understatement. 

“I suppose that’s true.” Lena relented with a sigh of her own. “Kara seems really stressed about her big project for Cat Grant. I just wish I knew how to help her.” 

“Hmmm.” Alex murmured, only half listening as she tugged the carrots free and poked at some wilted lettuce, “We have onions, but I guess I could run back into town to grab some celery—wait. _What_ project for Cat Grant?” 

Lena looked surprised, her eyes going wide, “I—I thought she would have told you more than she told me. All I know is that it has something to do with a park and a Fall Festival—”

“The Fall Festival.” Alex repeated, the soup completely forgotten, “But—but that’s great!” 

Lena frowned slightly, as if not quite trusting Alex’s enthusiasm, “It is?” 

“Well, yeah.” Alex huffed, “It’s only the biggest event of the season. The whole county turns out for it, it’s like a big carnival with rides and games and a tractor pull and Kara’s been dying for a real commission—whatever it is, if it’s part of the Festival, her work will really get to shine.”

“Oh,” Lena nodded along, still looking slightly confused, “That does sound, ummm—nice.” 

Alex couldn’t help the way her heart seemed to fall as she succumbed to that feeling of being— _wrong_ , or at least _out of whack_ now that she was having to learn information about her baby sister second-hand. It wasn’t—natural. She and Kara had always been close. And she hated feeling like something between them had been ripped or shredded—something precious torn. 

Alex let the refrigerator door close and turned to blink out at the kitchen, a little lost. 

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me—” 

“Maybe she was waiting for the right opportunity—” Lena said slowly, her eyes on Alex. 

Alex just snorted and dumped the carrots onto the table without caring how many rolled off onto the floor, “Yeah right—” 

“You know, like maybe when _you_ had big news—” Lena persisted, waiting until Alex glanced up to meet her eyes again before going on with emphasis, “Maybe then she’d— _you know_. Tell you hers.” 

It was quiet for several moments, and Alex could hear voices droning from the television in the living room, laughter from the boys—Lena seemed to be holding her breath. 

“You think I should tell her about Maggie?” Alex finally realized, though her stomach churned at the thought and she glared, those warm, grateful feelings she’d started to feel for her fake sister-in-law suddenly turning very prickly.

“Yes!” Lena rolled her eyes as if it should be the most natural thing in the world. “Alex, don’t you see how—how _awful_ it is when we all keep secrets from each other? It all feels so—wrong.” 

_You have no idea_ , Alex thought grimly. 

She was trying very hard not to get annoyed with the _stuffiness_ in the kitchen, the storm pressing in closer, as if sensing that she was weakening—but that hopeful/pleading look in Lena’s eyes was almost _too much_. Alex could feel irritation gnawing at her insides—making her fidgety. Uncomfortable. 

Alex snatched a knife from the counter and took several stomping strides around Lena to plop down angrily at the table because that felt like a step in the right direction. She glowered at the carrots, _more_ than ready to pour all of her frustrated energy into eviscerating them.

She just didn’t like feeling wrong when she knew Lena couldn’t _possibly_ be right.

“Look, _all_ I’m saying is,” Lena sighed, as she sashayed over to drop down daintily into the chair across from Alex without an invitation. She started nudging the carrots into a neater pile in the center of the table, “This morning you were a little unsure about what to do next about Maggie, but when you confronted that fear and opened yourself up, things turned out pretty great, right?”

Alex refused to dignify that barbed summation of her recent romantic leap with a response. She worked her jaw, trying and failing to think of something cutting to say, something final that would put a lid on the subject, but—it seemed she had lost a little bit of her edge. 

So she grabbed an onion and furtively started peeling back the papery layers to get at the usable bits. 

“Right,” Lena straightened, satisfied that no more carrots would take a tumble onto the floor—even if it was clean enough to eat off of, if she did say so herself. She turned her green eyes on Alex again, “And I know you’ve probably already talked more about it today than you want, but—this is a big thing that’s happened to you, Alex. And I just—want you to be able to feel like you have your family’s support.”

Lena trailed off as she watched Alex’s hands, the way she fell upon the onion with a singular focus. Her slices were hardly even. And she applied so much pressure, Lena worried she would leave deep nicks in the cutting board.

“I don’t have any sisters,” Lena added softly after several moments spent debating whether or not to keep her peace, “but I think—I think if I did, _this_ would be the kind of thing I’d lean on them for. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Whatever.” Alex grumbled, refusing to look up. 

Lena let out a soft sigh and pushed away from the table, accepting that she’d once again made things worse— _of course_ it would be her luck, to undo all the progress she’d made getting closer to her sister-in-law before the sun had even set on their new equilibrium. Next the boys would probably come home from school hating her more than ever, completely forgetting the fun they’d had this morning—

“I’ll think about it.” Alex muttered quickly, before Lena had even taken two steps to leave. 

She paused and blinked back at her sister-in-law, surprised that she'd gotten a concession rather than an immediate deflection--something barbed or cutting. 

“Well, are you gonna help or not?” Alex asked brusquely, gesturing to the small pile of vegetables she had yet to touch.

Lena took a deep breath, “Yes, of course.” 

She turned in place for a moment, one way and then another, before she noticed the knife block and hurried to retrieve the necessary equipment. 

“Okay, what do I—”

“I’ll do the onions. You just get through these carrots.” Alex instructed, gesturing again with her knife. 

Lena nodded and settled into her chair, biting her lip as she considered the orange tuber in front of her. 

“Umm, does it matter which end I start with?” Lena cringed even as she asked it, knowing it was probably a ridiculous question. 

Alex’s brown eyes flitted up to her, but she didn’t look any more exasperated than usual, “Not really, these are baby carrots so you don’t have to worry about stems—but you do want to cut away from yourself—”

Alex paused and raised an eyebrow as she watched the small carrot arc through the air, “Yeah, you may want to hold it down with your other hand or it could roll away from you.”

Lena huffed and adjusted slightly, trying to get used to the strange angle of her elbows. It felt awkward, but she did manage to make a clean cut—and then another and another. 

“Maybe someday,” Lena grunted as she tentatively sawed through her second carrot, “—we’ll actually get—to the point where—I get to teach you something for a change.”

“Hey,” Alex called, startling Lena with how gentle her tone was. When she looked up, she saw that Alex was at least attempting a smile—even if she looked a little sad, “You already have.” 

She didn’t elaborate, but Lena supposed she really didn’t have to. 

Lena smiled back, and then cleared her throat before she got emotional again, thinking about all the great leaps Alex had made today. She really was very happy for her—for showing her that love _can_ conquer at a time when she’d been starting to have some doubts. 

“Right, well, it does seem a bit off-balanced though. Driving lessons, cooking lessons, and a bit of first aid thrown in all in one day—you may have to give me a few days to catch up.” Lena drawled.

“You always were a little slow.” Alex teased dryly, smirking when Lena guffawed and shot her a look from across the table. “But you could start with that thing you did with the hose this morning—that really looked like a fun game. And quite effective too.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lena rolled her eyes and tossed a carrot slice at her sister-in-law.

“No, seriously,” Alex chuckled, committing fully to this new line of attack, if only because it worked wonders in undoing several of those knots in her gut—and it finally felt _normal_ again. 

She wasn’t entirely sure if she should credit Lena’s smiles or the change in topic—or perhaps a mixture of both—but somehow that pressure in the kitchen seemed to have lessened, and Alex could _breathe_ again. 

“I mean, I’ve never seen the boys get around so quickly. I think you might be on the brink of a revolutionary breakthrough—” 

“They _attacked_ me, Alex.” Lena pointed out, losing her fight to hold back a grin. 

“Of course they did. There will always be those who fight progress.” Alex reminded her, with mock seriousness, “ _But_ they still made it onto the bus. Even with your little excursion into the poison oak forest. That’s a win in my book.”

Lena face suddenly paled with a terrible realization, the merriment dropping from her eyes, “ _Oh my God_ —”

Alex frowned and glanced up from cleaning her knife, “What is it?”

“The poison oak.” Lena gasped, her eyes going wide, “That—that was _me_?”

“No, don’t blame yourself.” Alex said quickly, “We’ve been meaning to get that side of the house under control—now at least we’ll know what we’re spraying for.” 

Lena didn’t seem comforted by Alex’s words—actually, Alex wasn’t even sure if Lena heard her at all. She pushed away from the table again, looking even more troubled than before.

Alex half-rose to try to stop her, “Lena—"

“I am such an idiot—” Lena muttered, and then froze, her eyes going even wider, “Oh my—Alex! The boys!” 

“Lena, they’re fine.” Alex tried to soothe. “We gave them the medicine, and we’ll reapply in a few hours—”

“ _No_ , Alex!” Lena insisted, growing almost desperate, “The _boys_! We were _all_ out there!”

It took Alex a few moments to process what Lena was trying to tell her—and when she did, it felt like a punch to the gut. _Oh. Miguel. Colm._

_Oh, Fuck._

“Mommy?” 

Alex and Lena both jumped. 

The twins had appeared in the entryway, Walter still half-wrapped in Lena’s Navy blanket and Julien bare-chested and pink cheeked. 

“Where’s our soup?” Julien demanded suspiciously.

“I-I am so sorry, Sweetheart.” Lena stammered. She was very near the verge of tears again, feeling like a complete and utter failure. 

Alex clapped her hands to intervene, all those years of training _finally_ kicking in, “Soup’s gonna have to wait, guys, sorry.” 

Alex ignored the instantaneous protests and leaped into action, snagging her jacket and keys, “Okay, if you wait with them I can—”

“No, Alex, I’m coming too.” Lena insisted, even if her intention to leave no room for argument was thwarted by her teary eyes. 

“But we can’t—”

“I’m their _mother_.” Lena snapped, somehow managing to look both pitiful and fierce at the same time, “It’s my _job_.”

Alex groaned. Because how the _fuck_ was she supposed to argue with that? 

“Okay, _fine_.” Alex conceded, and turned away quickly so she wouldn’t see the triumphant flash of Lena’s smile—

Because she already knew that it couldn’t end well. _Any of it_.

Because the more they got attached to Lena, to Helena Lord, ne Luthor—

The more they fell for their own con and started to believe that she really was theirs, that she would _always_ be theirs—

It would only be _that much harder_ to let her go when the truth finally came out.

And Alex didn’t even want to think about how hard it would be for Lena. 


	64. The Woodcock–Johnson Tests of Cognitive Abilities

By the time Alex pulled the SUV into the school parking lot, Lena had _almost_ convinced herself that everything was going to be alright—that even if she was a terrible mother, Miguel and Colm must have vigilant teachers or at the very least a nice school nurse who would’ve noticed the rash right away and given them what they needed—but when she actually saw the school looming into view, Lena’s heart sank. 

Midvale Middle School looked even _less_ inviting than her own home had the first time she’d seen it nine days ago. It was all grey and uniform—like a prison. And there were rocks in the flower beds out front. _Rocks_. Instead of—of flowers or bushes! 

_How on earth_ could Lena trust that her boys were being looked after in a place like _that_?

“Alright.” Alex grunted as she parked the vehicle and unbuckled her seatbelt in one fluid motion. “How about you wait here and I’ll—”

“Let’s go.” Lena said at the same time, already opening her door.

“Wait! Lena! Shit!” Alex swore and hurried to jump out after her, “Would you slow down? You don’t even know where you’re going!” 

“How is that relevant—” 

“Mommy!” Walter called from his carseat, “My shoe came off!” 

Alex gave Lena a pointed look, and let out a huff of relief as the other woman changed course and returned to the vehicle to reassure the child. 

This really would have been so much easier if Alex could’ve tackled this mission solo. But then Lena had made the most— _pathetic_ face and she’d—looked so _determined_ that Alex just couldn’t say _no_.

(Alright, maybe she was willing to admit that she was going a little soft.) 

Still, she was starting to think that she was a complete idiot for letting Lena come this far. Taking her to dinner with friends at Winn’s was one thing, and going out for a morning drive was another, but this—this felt a little _too risky_. Bringing her out into the open where she might—have to talk to _other people_. 

That was a test Alex knew they were absolutely _not ready for_ at the moment. Not when things were already feeling so unbalanced— _unsafe_. 

Alex swore under her breath as she struggled to unbuckle Julien’s carseat. 

It took her twice as long to get the damn thing undone because she kept looking over her shoulder—though she really had no idea what she was looking for. She just kept finding Lena over on the sidewalk, surprised at how relieved she felt every time she could reassure herself that she hadn’t disappeared.

“Aha! There!” Alex crowed in triumph when she finally got Julien free and lifted him out, despite his protests. She tossed her hair from her eyes and grabbed Julien’s hand tightly as she sprinted up the slight incline to where Lena was waiting. 

“Alright, follow my lead,” Alex tossed over her shoulder as she shimmied around Lena to get to into the building first—but she had to pull up short almost immediately, her feet stuttering as she blinked against the harshness of the interior light. 

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Lena demanded as she followed in behind Alex. She crinkled her nose against an almost _too friendly_ smell and squinted down at the loudness of the carpet. It really was a stark contrast from the exterior of the building, but she still didn’t trust it. 

“Of course.” Alex scoffed, even as she swiveled her head first one way and then the other—things had clearly changed _a lot_ since she’d been a student in these very halls. The entrance opened into a small foyer, and the old mosaic tile was gone, but it was more than that--there were three corridors branching off now instead of just two. 

And it gave Alex pause—because she hadn't counted on that. 

On the building being changed and _unfamiliar_.

“I don’t like it here.” Julien whined, “Let’s go home.” 

“Ah, come on, Jules,” Alex muttered, forcing cheeriness, “It isn’t that bad.”

“Besides,” Lena added, eyeing a poster on the nearby wall with a slight frown—it featured an athlete of some kind promoting the consumption of dairy products, if the ‘got milk’ tagline was anything to go by, and while Lena wholeheartedly agreed with the message, she was a little disheartened that it was the first thing to draw her eye, rather than a map or any other informative signage. 

“We can’t go until we’ve collected your brothers—or at the very least made sure that they’re not suffering from the same ailment, sweetheart.” 

Julien nodded sagely, “No man left behind.”

“Exactly!” Lena smiled brightly. 

“What’s a ale-alleyment?” Walter asked around a yawn. 

“Well—”

“It’s this way. Come on!” Alex interrupted, already striking out for the left hand corridor. She put her faith entirely in the Serena Williams poster, since whatever vague memories she might be able to rustle up were no longer accurate. 

“What is?” Lena called, even as she tugged Walter closer and took a few steps as if to trudge after her sister-in-law, “Alex? Alex!” 

Their odd little troupe made their way noisily down the hallways, hindered by the shorter legs of the two protesting toddlers who had not yet been administered their usual afternoon nap and were struggling to keep up in the oversized bath robes Alex had insisted they wear to protect the medicine all over their bodies, and by Lena, who seemed to be intentionally dragging her feet--she was fighting a very strong impulse to search each and every classroom they passed, hoping for just a glimpse of dark curls or maybe a red lunchbox—so it was incumbent upon Alex, _again,_ to keep everyone moving. To blaze the trail. 

She let out a sigh of relief when they finally rounded the corner and she saw a desk guarding a door marked ‘principal’. She added a bit of a jog to her step and hurried up to the secretary. 

“Excuse me? Hi, ah, my name is Alex Danvers and this is—”

“I’m Lena Danvers and I need to see my sons right away.” Lena interrupted, crowding Alex at the desk. 

“ _God_ , Lena would you _let me handle this_?!” Alex snapped.

“It’s an emergency!” Lena defended.

The secretary blinked from behind her dark rimmed glasses, slightly overwhelmed by the sudden appearance of the squabbling women, and the identical toddlers greased up with a lotion the color of pepto bismol--one of them was grinning at her ghoulishly and the other was eyeing the Venus flytrap she kept on her desk. 

But after a moment, she gathered herself enough to clear her throat, “Excuse me, but—how exactly can help you ladies?”

“Right. _As I was saying_ ,” The red-headed woman said, shooting her dark haired companion a look as she adjusted her grip on the child she held pressed tight to her side, “I’m Alex Danvers, Department of Energy, and two of my nephews are enrolled here—”

“Their names are Colm and Miguel.” Lena couldn’t help but interject. 

She pretended not to notice the glare Alex shot her. 

“ _Anyway_ ," Alex growled, "We have reason to believe they may have come into contact with some poison oak this morning and we’ve come to assess their condition, and take them home if they’re showing signs. One of their mothers is here to sign any forms, if that’s necessary—”

“That’s me.” Lena looked up from retying the sash of Julien’s robe, “I’m the mom.” 

Alex rolled her eyes to the ceiling and let out another sigh. 

The secretary’s sharp face slowly relaxed with recognition, “Ah. So you’re here about the Danvers boys, then?” 

“Yes!” Lena exclaimed excitedly.

Alex nodded more solemnly, “Affirmative.” 

“Of course.” The secretary nodded, but rather than leaping into action--or otherwise acting with _any urgency_ , she gave a bright smile and gestured toward a row of chairs along the wall that Alex had breezed by without even noticing, “If you’ll just take a seat, I’m sure Principal Burbage will want to speak with you as soon as she gets back.”

“Oh, umm—is that really necessary?” Lena was startled and glanced at Alex who looked just as unsure as she did. 

“I’m afraid so.” The secretary insisted, still with that same genial, but firm, tone.

“Can’t we see them first?” Alex asked, her eyebrows inching together. 

“Please, we just want make sure they’re alright.” Lena added. “We can talk to your superior after, if that is still required—”

The secretary let out an exasperated huff as she very carefully set aside her pen and pushed away from the desk to rise to her feet—to be on more level footing. 

“Ladies, your concern is duly noted.” The secretary said evenly, her forced smile turning into a decided frown, “But it won’t be possible for you to speak to your students until you have spoken to Principal Burbage who is the middle of administrating some very important tests, so if you wouldn’t mind—”

Lena’s heart sank—anger and fear lodging so firmly in her throat that she found it impossible to do more than gasp. 

Walter looked uncertainly from his pretend mother to the secretary and back again, more than willing to burst into tears if the occasion called for it. 

His brother on the other hand, had no qualms giving voice to his frustrations, 

“She’s mean.” The child said darkly, glowering at the woman behind the desk.

“Alright, big guy,” Alex murmured, switching Julien to her other hip with a subtle pat on the back as she aimed a frown at the secretary. “Why can’t we see them?” 

The older woman stiffened.

“We have been having some discipline problems with your nephews, Miss Danvers.” The woman said sternly, and then turned her hazel eyes to Lena, “And we have put in several calls to your residence this morning, Mrs. Danvers, to no avail.”

“I—” Lena’s cheeks flushed as she remembered the phone--the phone she had unplugged in order to escape the constant pestering of Kara's friend Winn about his stupid emergency--and she could feel her heart stuttering with a mixture of shame and desperate urgency, “Our phone is— _temporarily_ out of order, and my wife was called into an emergency at work this morning so there’s been no one to—”

“What _kind_ of discipline problems?” Alex demanded, her voice icy and sharp. 

“Please.” The secretary said, gesturing again as she lifted her chin to meet Alex’s glower with one of her own--it was a little strange, the shape and stretch of her smile hadn't changed, but with just a little narrowing of her eyes--her smile was almost _aggressive_. “If you will wait patiently, I’m sure you can discuss it all with Principal Burbage.” 

Alex looked like she very much wanted to argue further, but Lena caught Alex’s sleeve and shook her head, looking resigned. 

“Maybe it would be better.” Lena murmured, her guilt making it hard for her to mirror even a spark of Alex’s indignation, “Maybe she can help us sort this out.” 

Alex worked her jaw for a moment, at least fifty curses rising to her tongue, but eventually relented with a loud huff of irritation. “Okay, _fine_. Let’s _sit_.” 

Alex stomped after Lena to the chairs, still fuming and glaring around Julien’s head at the secretary. She was a little surprised to note that there were two students already occupying the chairs nearest the desk, but one had his hoodie pulled down low over his eyes and appeared too engrossed in the music coming through his headphones to take any notice of the excitement going on—and the girl was at least pretending to read a book. 

Alex chose to ignore them both as she rearranged Julien so his legs wouldn’t get smashed as she sank angrily down next to Lena. Julien squawked in protest and wriggled from Alex’s arms almost immediately to slide down to the floor. She didn't understand whether he thought it would be more comfortable or if he just wanted a better vantage point so he could keep an eye on the secretary--but she decided to leave him be. 

For the time being.

She settled back--and waited.

“This is—this is _ridiculous_.” Alex snarled under her breath after less than a minute of sitting in silence. 

She _hated_ sitting still. Yet another long lasting side effect from her extensive training. 

She tapped out an angry, staccato rhythm with her foot and glared over at the closed ‘principal’s door and then at the empty hallway. “Making us wait to talk to the principal—did I not make it clear that the boys could be in need of immediate medical assistance? Doesn’t she _care_?!” 

Lena swallowed thickly, still reeling from the strange turn of events--she hated feeling this helpless. Hated that she didn’t know if her boys were alright. Hated that she had to _be patient and sit quietly_ while they might be hurting.

“I’m quite sure you did, but—maybe she doesn’t have the authority to release them to us.” Lena guessed, though it sounded more like a question. 

Alex grunted and glared, “Bullshit— _Mrs. Umbridge_ over there just wanted to make us sweat so she can feel in control—” 

The young girl with the book let out a giggle, but when Lena glanced her way, she ducked behind her book again--Lena thought maybe her eyes were hazel. 

Lena bit her lip and eyed her _infamous wife_ ’s red-headed sister.

“Alex, I hate to point out the obvious but—her nameplate clearly says _Ms. Cooper_.”

Alex just rolled her eyes, “I _know_ _that_ —"

“But she’s mean. Like the lady in _Harry Potter_.” Julien added matter-of-factly, finally sitting up--his hair was now even messier than before. 

Lena just blinked, confused, "Oh...right."

Vampires, _Star Wars_ , and _Harry Potter_ , it seemed her sons had a wide variety of interests--interests that she knew absolutely _nothing_ about. Maybe she could ask Kara about them-- _someday_. When they were no longer at odds. 

Not that they were at odds, now--or were they?

Lena groaned and bowed her head--she didn't know. 

“She’s so mean,” Julien continued, “she should go snorkeling in shark-infested waters.” 

“Julien!” Lena gasped, and then leaned down closer so she could hiss more subtly into the child's ear and hopefully not draw the secretary’s attention, “That is _not_ a very nice thing to say.” 

“Mommy, I’m tired.” Walter yawned, his head already heavy on Lena’s shoulder. 

“Shhh, I know baby.” Lena reassured him, grateful for the distraction. 

Walter let out a soft breath and nuzzled closer, smearing some of the calamine lotion into Lena’s shirt, but she didn’t mind. She followed the instinct she had to start carding her fingers through his soft hair, and felt herself relax almost immediately.

“It won’t be much longer. I promise.” Lena hummed. 

Alex let out a low growl, startling Lena. 

“You know what— _screw this_.” Alex hissed, low enough that her voice wouldn’t travel. She scowled over toward the secretary’s desk before reaching into her inner jacket pocket for her phone, “I’m calling Kara.” 

Lena’s stomach dropped—she reached out blindly to try to catch Alex’s arm, desperate to stop her before she pressed that button, “Alex, no! Please! Don’t!” 

She didn’t know why her voice chose at that moment to crack—or where the lump in her throat had come from. 

Over at her desk, the secretary looked up with a frown, and then turned her back to continue making copies. 

Alex froze, and narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Lena, her phone poised a few inches from her ear.

“Why not?” Alex demanded. 

“Because.” Lena snapped back, finally feeling something like heat sparking in her chest again, and she had to work very hard to keep her voice down, “This is my fault—and it’s up to _me_ to fix it.” 

“Lena, I told you,” Alex sighed, lowering her arm, “you can’t blame yourself. You had no idea there was poison oak in the woods—”

“But it _is_ my fault!” Lena insisted, angry that she could feel the sting of tears. “Kara asked me to get the boys ready today and I—I completely blew it. And I just don’t need another reason for her to be— _disappointed_ in me.” 

Alex’s frown deepened—but her eyes remained worried. She chewed on her lip for a moment as she studied Lena—she didn’t want to ask. 

But she couldn’t just _leave it_. Not when Lena sounded so miserable— _almost_ as miserable as Kara had sounded the night before. _God_ , had Lucy been right? Had these two idiots somehow found the time to fall for each other in the middle of this mess? 

Alex cleared her throat and glanced away. 

_She didn't want to ask_. 

But she almost felt she had to. 

“Umm, Lena—”

Alex paused when she heard a soft hissing sound. From Lena’s expression, she knew that she’d heard it too. 

Together they turned to look back down the hall—but there was no one. The hall was empty. 

There was only the faintest echoes of the student's music and the hum of the copier behind the secretary's desk--

“Psssst!” The voice sounded again, and this time, Alex realized that the girl with the book seemed to have scooted considerably closer—she was in the chair on the other side of Lena now and when she peeked over her book to catch Alex’s eye—Alex could see her cheeks were tinged a nervous shade of pink. 

“Umm, sorry that was probably really dumb, but I just wasn’t sure how to—umm—” The girl stammered and glanced fearfully around her book toward the secretary’s desk before seeming to gather her courage to glance up at Lena a little shyly, “Are you Miguel’s mom?” 

Lena’s eyes went wide and her heart seemed to kick violently in her chest, but she managed to nod, “I am.” 

The girl bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder and around Lena--as if searching for eavesdroppers. 

“Well, he’s in detention.” The girl whispered conspiratorially.

“What?!” Alex snapped. 

“Shh!” The girl squealed, looking as if she deeply regretted revealing the little she had.

“Detention.” Lena repeated—she didn’t like the sound of the word. “What on Earth for?”

The girl shook her head, “I-I don’t know, but—"

“ _Goddamnit_.” Alex cursed, shoving her phone back in her jacket and glaring daggers, “And _that woman_ didn’t say a _goddamned_ thing!”

“Alex!” Lena warned, 

“Ah, Mrs. Burbage.” The secretary called suddenly.

Both Lena and Alex turned sharply to see a rather short, but strong looking woman with mousy brown hair coming down the hall—she was in deep conversation with what was presumably another teacher, but upon hearing her name she glanced up and raised an eyebrow at the sight of the motley crew of guests crowding the secretary’s desk.

“Everything alright, Gemma?” The principal asked as she approached.

Alex rose to her feet, her expression still stony and Lena rose with her, still clutching Walter tightly to her chest. 

The secretary’s smile remained plastered on, and she ignored the question.

“Mrs. Burbage, these women are here for the Danvers boys.”

“Oh, I see.” The woman in mauve turned to toward both Lena and Alex and nodded a greeting. 

Lena nudged Julien with her foot, gesturing for him to stand up.

“Would you like to step into my office?” The principal asked, making an inviting, sweeping gesture.

“Not really.” Alex growled. Lena elbowed her, exasperated with her too blunt approach--and tried to remember all the reasons she shouldn't strangle Alex on the spot, namely that she was a valued member of the family, and Kara’s dear sister. But the most glaring reason was perhaps the realization that if she were to rid herself of her nuisance of a sister-in-law, she'd then be forced to drive the boys home on her own, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to test her driving skills without the surety of a more experienced driver riding along--even if that safety net had to be Alex.

“We’d _like_ to see our boys." Alex continued, doing her best to ignore the sting of Lena's nudge, "We know you’ve got at least one of them holed up in detention somewhere—”

The secretary scoffed, but the principal's expression remained neutral. She seemed to consider for a moment, tilting her head to the side as she eyed Alex up and down. 

Eventually, she nodded curtly. 

“Very well. Follow me.”

Alex caught Lena’s eye, surprised that she'd agreed with such little fuss, and then hurried to help Julien roll back his too long sleeves again so she could snag his hand. 

Lena stepped forward to follow the principal as well, but then hesitated to turn and catch the eye of the girl with the book again—she mouthed ‘thank you’ in passing. 

The girl blushed, but smiled a ‘you’re welcome’. 

"Ruby!" The secretary barked, "Are you going to help me tape up these sign up sheets or not?"

But Lena lost sight of them as Ruby jumped and snapped her book shut.

“I’m glad we’ll have this chance to chat.” The principal said casually as she led the Danvers women back up the hallway. The bell had rung and the passage was now flooded with students changing classes, so they were forced to walk slowly, to zig and zag and sidestep boys and girls touting large instrument cases or satchels or textbooks--and one or two who were too caught up in their own chattering to notice the small entourage carving their way against the more natural flow of foot traffic, “We’ve been having a few minor issues ever since the boys started, just your usual attention-seeking behavior I’d expect from new students trying to fit in, but today really took the cake.”

“What did they do?” Lena asked, her imagination running rampant—she was imagining her vampire children biting other students, maybe gluing their instructors’ markers to the desks or letting frogs loose in the gym—she’d noticed that Colm did have a habit of sneaking insects and frogs into the house. Lena’s heart started pounding at the thought of Colm and his adoration of fire— _Oh, God, please don’t let it be a fire_

“They have been refusing to take their tests.”

Lena blinked, thinking she must not have heard the other woman correctly amidst the bustle of activity all around them. “I’m sorry, what?”

The principal sighed, “Here at Midvale Middle we do our best to place our students in classes that challenge and stretch them. And in order to do that, we use the Woodcock-Johnson Tests of Cognitive Abilities. We’ve found they’re very valuable in measuring intelligence and potential,”

Mrs. Burbage paused outside a door very clearly marked ‘detention’ and turned back to the women, her mouth pinched in a peculiar line, "And we encourage all of our new students to take them.” 

“Oh, I see—” Lena murmured. She was doing her best to peer through the small window in the door—she could see two figures at the back of the room—they looked absolutely miserable, with their heads down at cubicles that had been fitted with dividers to keep the occupants from engaging with their surroundings, but even so—Lena recognized them right away and her heart clenched in her chest.

The principal nodded and tsked, fixing each woman with a pointed look before she pushed into the room—clearly surprising the instructor overseeing the two boys. He spilled what looked like a mug of coffee, over several papers he’d been marking up.

“Whoa—oh. Mrs. Burbage, there you are!”

“Hello, Mr. Khan, how are our delinquents doing?” Mrs. Burbage asked cheerily.

But Lena hardly paid any attention to the older man's gruff reply. She was more focused on the boys at the back of the room who’d also been startled by the opening of the door. Colm had lifted his head blearily and blinked toward the entrance, but Miguel had started as if he’d been jolted,

“M-Mom?”

Lena was already moving, picking her way around backpacks and textbooks littering the floor as quickly as she could, keeping a firm hand on Walter.

“I’m here, sweetheart, it’s alright. I’m here—"

“Mom!” Miguel croaked again, his voice desperately hoarse. 

Mrs. Burbage frowned and turned to watch the dark-haired woman crouch beside the desks and fawn over the two boys like a worried mother-hen. 

“Mother?” She murmured, sliding her eyes over to the red-head, “I wasn’t aware your sister had remarried.”

“Oh, yeah, umm—it all happened pretty quickly.” Alex almost choked, Julien had chosen that particular moment to squeeze her neck as he stretched and craned his neck to try to peer around her at his brothers. 

“Hmmm.” The principal hummed, squinting again at the woman in the back with new interest.

Lena ran her hand soothingly along Colm’s arm and then carefully pushed back his sleeve, tensing as she revealed several irritated patches of the rash—there was a particularly large one on the back of his left hand.

“We’re in real bad shape.” Colm croaked.

“Uh oh.” Walter said solemnly from his place at Lena's side. His lips curved into a concerned pout, “They’ve got it too.” 

Lena hummed in sympathy and craned her neck to peer up into Miguel’s face—her heart sank when she saw the tell-tale red blotches dotting his neck. But she was surprised to note that his eyes looked puffy and swollen, as if he’d been crying. 

“Oh, honey.” Lena murmured, her tone gentle. 

Miguel immediately started trembling. He squeezed his eyes shut,

“I-I’m sorry!” He gasped. 

Lena’s heart clenched in concern, “Sorry? Sweetheart, what on earth—why should you be sorry?” 

“I tried,” Miguel choked, and despite his efforts, several tears shook free as he looked down at Lena, “I—I really tried, Mom. I’m so-sorry.”

Lena’s heart felt as if it were breaking in two and she didn’t even know _why_ —tears of her own had formed at the corners of her eyes and it was all she could do to keep her voice steady as she reached for Miguel, 

“Miguel, sweetheart, what are you talking about—what happened?”

But the boy only cried harder and buried his face in her shoulder—she could feel reverberations of his sobs throughout her whole body, and she wished more fervently than she could remember ever wishing for anything--that she could take his pain from him. That she could absorb his despair. 

Somehow Lena managed to wrap both arms around Miguel and rock him awkwardly without losing her balance.

“Please, Ma—can we please just go home?” Colm begged from his chair.

“See!” Mrs. Burbage’s voice cut through the misery in the air and Lena blinked as she looked up to see her looming over the desks. The woman's eyes burned with triumph, “Your children have been playing sick all day to try to get out of their tests.” 

“Mrs. Burbage,” Lena’s stammered, “they aren’t playing—"

But her voice was weak, and the principal spoke over her, her face going a little red as she got carried away, “And it isn’t any wonder, given they’re being reared by a woman as _slovenly_ and _incorrigible_ as themselves.”

“Now hold on a _goddamn minute_ —” Alex tried to interrupt as well, so angry her fists were shaking, but she was similarly ignored.

“I believe their problems have arisen primarily due to deficient parental guidance,” Principal Burbage diagnosed with a hard look at the two boys in question, the ones who had complained of itching all day and put in the most lack-luster test taking effort she'd ever seen, “and whether or not that wife of yours has brought you on to try to shuffle off some of her own responsibility for the way they’ve turned out, I can tell you the last thing these children need is another _friend_. What they need is discipline—someone to teach them how to behave like _normal_ little boys."

“Mrs. Burbage!” Lena barked, shooting to her feet with a sudden fury that seemed to fill her whole being—that seemed to make her ten feet taller, “If you would kindly get off your soap box _for a moment_ , it may interest you to know that my children are _not_ acting out of a rebellious need to avoid your cock-and-john tests—even if their doing so would have my full support, since _you claim_ these tests are meant to label a child’s potential, which in my view is a thing that cannot _possibly_ be measured, least of all by an anal-compulsive _witch_ more concerned with _pigeon-holing_ and _administering_ _punishment_ than providing any sort of nurture or care to the students that need it the most!"

Lena's voice had grown stronger, it filled the entire room--and captivated everyone present. Even poor Mr. Kahn who had only been asked to monitor the detention hall because this happened to be his off hour. 

"If you hadn’t already been looking for a reason to single out and fail my children," Lena continued to seethe, her green eyes fierce--they'd gone dark, like the colors of an angry sea, "You _may have noticed_ that their inability to focus and sit through that godawful exam of yours was due to a very real and _painful_ case of head-to-toe poison oak!” 

Mrs. Burbridge’s mouth had dropped open, and she worked her jaw furiously for several seconds, “I—well, that’s—”

“That's _what_?" Lena snapped, "Not your _job_? Not your _concern_? Well, I ask you, Mrs. Burbage, if it isn't, then _what is_? Certainly not to stand there and lecture me about what my children need when you've proven you have no comprehension of what that is! Now, my wife may be a big softie who’d rather be a friend to our boys and let them completely burn the house down before she’d ever raise her voice to them,” Lena was calming now, and she paused to take a breath, “but that’s _none of your business_.”

Miguel sniffled and wiped at his nose with his sleeve, drawing Lena’s eye for a moment. Her expression softened considerably.

“And my children may be a discipline problem, but they’re _mine._ Mine and Kara’s. And I think they’re incredibly bright and sensitive,” Lena paused to find Mrs. Burbage again, and she narrowed her eyes dangerously. “So I have no doubts _whatsoever_ as to their intelligence. I do, however, have _serious_ doubts about _yours_.”

Alex was fighting a grin a few feet away, resisting the urge to cheer, but the toddler at her hip looked completely star-struck.

“Wow.” Julien breathed. 

Lena seemed to rouse herself and she rolled her neck from side to side as she turned her back on Principal Burbage and looked down to the boys still sitting at their detention table,

“Alright, boys, let’s get your stuff and get out of here.”

The boys moved as if in a daze, and Lena hovered just nearby, protective and still buzzing with a bit of furious energy. 

“Come on, the car’s outside. Let’s go.” 

“She sure told her off.” Colm muttered to his brother as he stuffed his lunchbox into his backpack. 

“Yeah.” Miguel agreed, his voice still a little scratchy. He was still tense, still kept his shoulders hunched and his head down. 

“I don’t know if Mom would’ve done that.” Colm admitted.

“Nah,” Miguel shrugged, “She would’ve thrown her into the sun.”

“You ready?” Lena called. She had collected Walter and Julien both, and stood ready by the door.

Colm shouldered his pack and took his brother's arm, tugging him to the door. "Yeah, let's go home."

Lena brushed a hand over each boy's shoulder as they filed from the room--as if she need a physical reminder that they were alright. When she was satisfied, she cast one final glare over to the principal. She tried to summon something final and scathing to say--something _damning_. 

"Mom!"

But one of the boys called for her, and she decided that was more important. She caught Alex's eye and jerked her head in a clear summons as she stepped through the door,

"Alex." 

Alex uncrossed her arms and brushed by the principal with a smirk,

"Give my regards to Woodcock and Johnson.”


	65. A Family Shouldn't Keep Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for the terribly long wait. I know I am not the only one whose life has been thrown out of whack by the pandemic, but I just want to say that I hope everyone is staying safe and finding joy however you can.  
> Things for me are finally starting to get better, and so I am hopeful that I can get back into writing more regularly. But for now, I hope you can enjoy this chapter...even if it doesn't exactly end on a hopeful note!

By four o’clock in the afternoon, things in the Danvers household had calmed down significantly. There were no more buses to catch or textbooks to find—even the dog beasts seemed content to soak in the quiet of the afternoon. All four boys had been successfully gathered together under the same roof, and Lena was determined to soothe away all the horrors of the day by whatever means necessary—which meant she was far more willing to ply her children with sugar, high fructose corn syrup, carbohydrates and whatever else they desired in the name of expediency, seeing as she only had a handful of chopped carrots and onions to show for her pathetic attempt at providing them with a hearty and healthful chicken soup broth.

But she supposed she shouldn’t take that failure too deeply to heart.

Her children had been reared at least in part by Kara Danvers, after all—and once they were stuffed with potstickers and ice cream, they became as docile as lambs. The twins practically floated up the stairs after Alex to tuck themselves in for a nap—and the older boys were model patients as Lena showed them how to apply the rash medicine.

“Try to keep it out of your eyes, Sweetheart.”

They were squeezed once again in that tiny broom-closet of a bathroom, having left the remnants of their feasting strewn about the kitchen and table to be dealt with later—Lena didn’t really know when. Nor did she care.

The urgency that had pushed and pulled at her heartstrings all day and driven her to the very edges of despair had faded into the golden afternoon--and she was almost willing to let herself trust this strange new feeling of peace within the house.

_Almost._

“There you go, you’re doing a great job.” Lena praised as she gently guided Colm’s hands, helping him to slather the pink medicine over a red patch of the rash on his cheek. 

“How’re you doing, Miguel?” Lena peered over her shoulder at the older boy. “Are you ready for the lotion?”

The younger boys had squirmed and whined as she and Alex worked, but Lena felt the older boys deserved a bit more independence—a bit more _trust_. And so, after giving instructions and a brief demonstration, she let them work over their own itches and irritations at their own pace.

So far, her method seemed to be working well. 

Miguel had been steadily and carefully working his way up his legs with a wet cloth just as Lena had instructed. Now he glanced up and nodded, holding out his hand expectantly. 

“Will we have to go to school like this tomorrow?” Colm asked as he frowned over the streaks and swirls of pink coating his arms and legs.

“I don’t think so. I think we may have to take a little break from school for now.” Lena muttered as she leaned over to squirt some of the pink lotion into Miguel’s palm. 

She couldn’t help but smile at the excited whoop Colm gave.

“Ugh! It’s so runny!” Miguel exclaimed, surprised. 

“It’s okay, just cup your hand like this—there you go.” Lena helped shape the boy’s hand into a better bowl to keep the medicine from spilling onto the floor. Miguel’s eyes glinted determinedly and his hand wobbled a little as he prepared to dump the oozing mess onto his calf.

“How long will we have to wear this stuff?” Colm asked, struggling to get his glasses back in place when both his fingers and part of his nose was so slick with the soothing medicine.

“Well, here—read it for yourself.” Lena pushed the bottle of medicine into the inquisitive boy’s hands, taking the opportunity to stand and stretch—she’d been squatting next to the tub for so long, she needed to give her hamstrings some relief.

Colm squinted at the label for a long moment, concentrating on the small print, “It says—we should ‘apply it every 5 to 6 hours until the redness reduces’...but for how _long_?”

“I don’t know, Sweetheart.” Lena admitted, hating that she couldn’t give more solid information, “Your Aunt Alex said it could be anywhere from a few days to several weeks…apparently Winn had a case that lasted twenty-nine days once. So we just have to be patient and let the medicine do its job—”

Colm sighed dramatically, “Ugh! I _hate_ being patient!”

Lena was surprised at the warmth that spread through her chest at the petulant gesture. Her lips twitched into an indulgent smile,

“Me too, Sweetheart.”

“Umm, Mom?” Miguel cleared his throat, but immediately averted his eyes when Lena looked up. He pretended to be preoccupied with rubbing in more medicine, and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, “Are you, umm—gonna talk to Mom about—about what happened?”

Lena felt her stomach drop and she tugged self-consciously at the hem of the sweatshirt she was wearing.

She couldn’t deny that she’d been dreading that very thing all day—dreading the moment when she’d have to tell Kara about her little misadventure. 

Given the _unfortunate_ events of the previous night, and the awkwardness of their parting this morning, Lena was almost painfully aware of the _unresolved tension_ between herself and the _infamous wife_ —and she’d been determined to get through the day without adding any more. She’d hoped to maybe even go above and beyond what Kara had requested of her, to dazzle the sun goddess with a bit of her own brilliance (if she could dig deep enough to find it) and _smooth things over_ , maybe even lay the groundwork for—for building something even greater than the life she couldn’t remember. 

But all of those hopes had been dashed by that _menace_ of a weed—well, shrub, actually. _Toxicodendron diversilobum_ , according to a thing called Google she’d found on Alex’s phone. 

( _Yes_ , she knew she probably should have _asked first_ , but Lena was a big believer in the ‘act first, seek permission later’ philosophy—especially when it was the health and safety of her children at stake.)

Not that Lena thought Kara would care at all for the distinction, seeing as Kara had proven herself to be, well— _not the most observant_ woman in the world. But even so, the mark of the poisonous vine was so obvious, so _distinctive_ , that there was no way Lena could hide it from her. She was going to have to swallow her pride _and frustration—_ and try to have an honest, _grown-up_ conversation with Kara. Which was of course long over-due, but not particularly something Lena wanted to face at the moment—though she was willing to put aside her petty spousal grievances for the sake of the children. 

They didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of—whatever it was that _wasn’t happening_ between her and the _infamous wife_. 

“Well,” Lena cleared her throat, absolutely _refusing_ to start down _that_ train of thought—and tried to remember what the question had been,

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for a family to keep secrets from each other, do you?”

Miguel seemed to blanch, and he exchanged a look with his brother before swallowing thickly, “Ummm, I guess not.” 

“You’d guess right.” Lena said, finally releasing her hem to tangle her fingers together awkwardly, “So when your mother gets home—I think she and I are going to need to sit down and have a long talk—but Sweetheart, I don’t want you to worry.”

Lena softened her tone when she noticed the worried look on Miguel’s face—she didn’t want to upset the boys further. Not when _so much_ had gone wrong today.

Not when they had already been made to pay for something that was absolutely _not_ their fault.

“You are _not_ in trouble.”

“Even though we didn’t take those tests?” Colm asked. 

Lena sighed. 

“You know, normally, I’d tell you that you need to respect your teachers and try to follow their instructions, but today was, ummm—”

“Bizarre?” Colm supplied. “Weird? Peculiar? Crazy?” 

Lena chuckled and adjusted Colm’s glasses to sit less crookedly on his slicked-pink nose. 

“I suppose you could say that, yes. Today _was_ pretty crazy. Now, come on, let’s clean this up and wash the medicine from your hands.” Lena collected the rags and the medicine bottle and shuffled to the side to clear up the space in front of the sink for Colm who took the opportunity to turn the water on full blast—almost instantly the tiny space was filled with steam.

“Colm, honey,” Lena coughed, swatting steam away from her face, “I don’t think you need to scald the medicine off—lukewarm water should be just fine.” 

“Sorry!” Colm called above the loudness of the water. He had to transfer the mountain of soap bubbles he’d amassed onto one hand so he could reach over and push the faucet back a notch—Lena had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at how severely fogged up her son’s glasses had become.

But the urge faded when she could finally make out Miguel’s hunched figure through the steam.

Her oldest boy had been strangely subdued since they’d arrived home, but now he looked even more withdrawn as he watched the soap bubbles swirl around and around in the sink. His eyes were far away and his lips were pulled together in a grim line.

Lena felt worry niggling in the back of her mind—pushing against the haze of calm and relief that she’d so wanted to hold close until Kara came home to ruin it—but the peace and calm had only been an illusion. There were still shadows and hurts, if she looked closely enough.

And she feared Miguel was hiding one that went deep—something that couldn’t be eased with calamine lotion or even the greasiest of potstickers. 

“Hey, Ma, do you mind if we go watch tv or something?” Colm asked brightly as he hopped to the side to free up the sink, shaking his hands as if he genuinely believed that would suffice as a method for drying.

Lena subtly snagged a towel from the stack on the back of the toilet and handed it over,

“I suppose so,” She mused, watching Miguel intently as he shuffled forward and stuck his hands under the faucet, “but nothing violent.” 

“We won’t!” Colm promised before elbowing his brother and racing away, “Come on!” 

Miguel didn’t seem quite as enthusiastic as his brother.

He grimaced at the jab and rubbed absently at his arm as he turned the water off.

Lena bit her lip worriedly as she retrieved the towel Colm had carelessly cast off and handed it over to her older son.

She wasn’t sure how to approach the subject—how to express her concern without upsetting Miguel who was clearly _already_ upset about something.

But when Miguel handed the towel over and started toward the door as if he were going to leave—she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind to try to get him to stay a moment longer.

“Miguel—is everything alright, Sweetheart?” She half reached for him, but then blushed and dropped her arm, hugging the medicine bottle and towel close to her chest.

“Oh, umm, yeah. I guess.” Miguel stammered, noncommittally, “I mean, it was—kind of a hard day.” 

“I know.” Lena sighed, pained. She remembered all too well just how miserable her two sons had looked when they’d found them in that blasted detention hall—Miguel especially. Lena stepped closer to Miguel and pulled him tentatively into a sort of side-hug, hoping that closeness would at least convey how deeply she wanted to help. “I’m so sorry.”

She still felt unsure around the boys—but some part of her just seemed to feel that this was what Miguel needed. As if some long forgotten part of her recognized the quiet suffering she saw in him—and given everything they’d been through today, she chose to trust those instincts.

Miguel seemed to stiffen at first, not really pulling away, but going rigid—but then he turned his head into her shoulder and let out a deep breath, one that shook slightly. 

“Did you, umm,” Miguel paused to squeeze his eyes shut and Lena’s breath caught—she didn’t dare breathe, afraid she’d miss his next words,

“Did you really mean w-what you said to Mrs. Burbage?”

Lena didn’t hesitate, “Of course I did.”

Miguel nodded, but Lena could feel him shaking a little, as if he couldn’t quite believe it—he started to pull away, keeping his brown eyes averted, “Okay. That’s cool—”

“Miguel.” Lena didn’t try to stop Miguel physically, but she did brush the hair from his eyes, needing to bolster her words with soft touch, “I know I haven’t been— _myself_ lately, but _never_ question how much your mother and I love you. I know today was hard, and, gosh, this whole _week_ has to have been hard on all of you boys, but no matter how hard things get, I am _so lucky_ that my family includes _you_ ,”

Miguel took a sharp breath and a half-step back, his eyes wide in surprise.

Lena let her hand fall to his shoulder, needing to stay connected, “You boys are each so special in your own way, and I meant everything I said to that awful woman—you are so incredibly bright, and you have such a sharp sense of humor, Miguel. All of your brothers look up to you, and you’ve been such a source of inspiration for all of us in the middle of this mess. And your mother and I will always support you, no matter what.”

Lena could feel Miguel trembling, and she paused to gather her thoughts. And she tried to soften her voice when she began again, 

“Honey—you can do _anything_ you put your mind to.”

Lena hoped that Miguel would at least take this much to heart. 

She had only just started connecting with the boys after so many days of disaster and disconnect, with her instructions more often than not completely disregarded and ignored—but this was different. She wanted Miguel to know that she would be there for him, if he wanted it—even if that meant she had to do a deep study of vampires and this Harry Potter character.

Miguel looked absolutely gutted. He swiped hastily at his eyes as if to stave off the flow of tears, but his cheeks were still glaringly splotchy, and his nose had begun to run. 

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.” The boy finally croaked, immediately turning his head to the side as if he was ashamed to be admitting even that much.

Lena’s heart clenched so painfully she wanted to cry out. But she swallowed and tried to keep her voice steady, “Why not, sweetheart?”

Miguel took a deep breath and worked his jaw in frustration,

“I just—I couldn’t—” He faltered.

“The teacher says I need to stop daydreaming. She gets angry when I take too long on our work in class.” Miguel said in a rush, looking up sharply at Lena—but not with anger really, all Lena could see was helplessness, “But I’m not daydreaming. I _do_ focus and I try to get it all down, but sometimes, it just takes me longer and I—I tried _so hard_ today, to get through that test, but I—I couldn’t make the words—I couldn’t space them out in time—”

Lena’s heart had been sinking by degrees the more worked up Miguel got, but now she swallowed around the lump in her throat and squeezed the boy’s shoulder,

“Miguel, Sweetheart—are you having trouble with your reading?” Lena asked as gently as she could. 

The look on Miguel’s face was enough of an answer, but he nodded all the same. 

“Mom says I shouldn’t worry about it, and that I’ll catch up, but—all of the other kids are _so smart_. And I know I should know it, but sometimes the words just won’t—no matter how hard I try, it just won’t—”

Miguel was finding it harder and harder to speak and make himself heard. 

Lena resisted the urge to sweep him up in the biggest hug—she needed to let him talk, to get as much off his chest as he could. 

“I do know how to read, but the letters—sometimes I get them mixed up and so I try to go really slow so that I won’t mess them up, but it’s like—something is wrong with me.”

Lena couldn’t hold back any longer. 

She let all of those useless things fall to the floor and wrapped her arms around the most precious thing in her life—and she could feel Miguel clinging to her shoulders in turn. 

“Oh, sweetheart—there is _nothing_ wrong with you. Absolutely nothing.” Lena said over and over again, holding him as tightly as she possibly could. 

“But I just told you I—” Miguel stammered, his voice scratchy.

“Every person is going to learn a little differently, Miguel.” Lena said quietly. She loosened her hold so she could look down into his eyes, “And just because you're finding reading to be a bit challenging doesn't mean that you're any less smart or gifted than any of the other students. It just means that we haven’t found the right tools for you yet.” 

Miguel swiped at his eyes again, “Tools?”

Lena nodded, “Of course. Do you think your mother was born with the ability to carve her masterpieces?”

Miguel shook his head.

“Exactly.” Lena agreed. “She had to work on her carpentry and build up her skills over years and years of practice—reading is no different, honey. It is something we can work on together.”

“Really?” Miguel asked, his voice was still scratchy, but there was a faint gleam of hope in his eyes for the first time.

Lena nodded, “Of course, Miguel. You don’t have to face this on your own—I hope you know that you can always come to me when you're upset or have a problem. And when your mother gets home, we’ll talk about it. All three of us. We’ll be a team, and find ways to help you with this, okay?”

“Okay.” Miguel smiled tentatively back—and Lena felt a thrum of warmth from her head to her toes because maybe, _just maybe_ , she didn’t have to write off the day as a _complete_ disaster— _maybe_ there was some good that could be salvaged.

She’d take even just a sliver—just a tiny piece.

There was a soft cough from the doorway and Lena turned to see Alex leaning casually against the doorway.

“Everything alright in here?” Alex asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Lena felt her cheeks flush self-consciously and she opened her mouth to answer, to _explain_ that things were _more than fine_ because she was _finally_ having a _breakthrough_ with her son and getting to the bottom of what had made him so moody lately—but Miguel beat her to it.

“Yeah. We’re good.” He said simply. 

Which Lena supposed would have to suffice as a summation of the situation, because Miguel stuck his hands in his pockets and started toward the door.

“Well good.” Alex sighed, running a hand through her hair, “And the twins are both down—they’ll probably sleep for at least a few hours.”

“Oh—umm, great.” Lena stammered, scrambling to retrieve the medicine and rags she’d dropped—she didn’t know why she suddenly felt awkward and out-of-place, well--out of _sorts_ , really. She kicked the dirtied towel into the corner—she’d deal with that later.

But when she looked up, Lena realized that Miguel was still with her, hesitating just inside the bathroom door. 

He caught her eye and flashed one of those dazzling Danvers smiles, “You know—you really are a great mom.”

Lena was struck completely speechless by the compliment—and her heart seemed to soar, to just— _elevate_.

She’d had _no idea_ it could hold so much happiness. So much— _joy_.

She somehow managed to nod, to lift her head up and down—but intelligible speech was completely beyond her at the moment.

Alex frowned at her nephew’s retreating back and then shot Lena a curious look, “Okay, well—I don’t really know what _that_ was all about, but—I think I’m gonna have to head out now.”

“ _Oh my God!”_ Lena gasped, crashing almost violently out of what she could only describe as a giddy haze—or blissful delirium. “That’s right! You have to get ready for your date!”

“Yep.” Alex agreed, popping the ‘p’ as she pushed off from the door frame and turned on her heel. “I’ve got just enough time to get home and get changed—”

“Oh thank _God_.” Lena breathed in relief as she tagged along just behind her sister-in-law—she’d dropped all of the rags and the bottle of calamine again, figuring she might as well go all out and leave a decent mess for her future self to deal with when she didn't have a million _much more important things_ to deal with, "For a minute there I really thought you were going to go in Kevlar and boots—" 

Alex rolled her eyes, “You know, it may come as a surprise to you, but I actually do have a few dresses in my wardrobe.” 

“That’s a relief,” Lena teased, “Because it’d be a shame not to show a _certain someone_ those legs—”

“ _Oh my God_ , shut up!” Alex groaned, but she was grinning because it was still a bit of a pleasant shock—the fact that she had a date with Maggie. The fact that this time she could make sure that she wasn’t outfitted in her tatty pajamas—or too drunk to be taken seriously.

“And if you’re going to take the trouble of changing, you might as well curl your hair while you’re at it.” Lena advised, earning an indignant scoff from Alex.

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with it, but you want to make a good impression don’t you?”

“Well, sure, but she already said she likes me so—”

“Speaking of impression, flowers usually go a long way—”

“Lena, this is Midvale. We have more funeral parlors than flower shops.”

“Well that doesn’t make any sense. Funerals means _flowers_ , Alex.”

“Are you seriously suggesting I steal a bunch of roses from the cemetery?!” Alex demanded, almost choking on the absurdity.

Lena gave Alex a sharp look, “Desperate times call for—"

Alright, that’s enough!” Alex groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose with a huff, “Look, I know I only got this far because of you, and I really do appreciate all the help, but—I've got to do this next part on my own.”

Lena looked as if she was going to protest, but then checked herself and hugged herself instead.

“You’re right,” She sighed, “I just—good luck. I guess.”

Alex chuckled and shook her head ruefully. “Well, thanks. _I guess_.”

“And Alex,” Lena ventured, pausing as Alex snagged her keys from her pocket and lingered at the threshold, standing on ceremony—somehow not yet ready to say goodbye. “I understand if you don’t want to make a grand announcement yet—”

Lena bit her lip, “But please— _at least_ let us know how it goes.” 

Alex rolled her eyes again, but her tone softened, “Of course I will, Lena.”

Lena sighed in relief. “Okay. Good.”

“Good.” Alex nodded, waiting to see if Lena would say anything else.

It didn't take a genius to realize that Helena Lord, their Lena, always had to have the final word. Which was probably at least _one_ of the reasons it had taken Alex so long to warm up to her--they were too similar. And Alex couldn't help but think that if they really were family, by some twist of fate or in an alternate reality perhaps--that they would drive each other absolutely crazy.

But when Lena didn’t say anything further, Alex turned and lifted her hand in a half-wave to the boys on the couch.

“Bye guys!”

Both boys jumped at the salutation—they’d been glued to the screen, _riveted_ even—and something in their eyes made Alex freeze. 

“Colm.” Lena said sternly, her eyebrows furrowing as she took a step into the den, “I thought I told you nothing violent.”

“I-It’s not.” Colm stammered even as the sound from the television betrayed his lie.

“It’s just the news.” Miguel supplied weakly, looking to his aunt for help.

Alex swallowed down a lump of panic, praying to every god and angel she could think of to _please let it just be a coincidence, please let it just be_ —

“Hang on—” Lena gasped, now in full view of the screen. 

And Alex lifted her eyes to the heavens, gripping her keys so tightly she could feel the metal biting into her flesh— _please_. Just _please_

“ _What on Earth_ is Kara doing fighting an _octopus_?! And why _the fuck_ is she dressed like that?!”

Alex closed her eyes in defeat—this was _really_ starting to feel unfair.


	66. Kara Comes Home...For the Fight

It was late when Kara finally stumbled out of her truck onto familiar ground—ground that was made all the more precious because it was stable and _solid_. There was only a fragile tendril of golden light lingering low in the western horizon, and the rest of the sky was dark—too cloudy for stars.

But Kara was too exhausted, too bruised and _cold_ to really feel that ache.

She was too tired even to attempt flying the short distance from her truck to the porch—so she walked. Each and every step felt harder than the last. She couldn’t remember the last time her muscles had ached like this—the last time she’d felt so worn down it was _painful_.

The pod of hexapuses she’d fought with J’onn out in the bay weren’t the biggest or even the _strongest_ foes she’d ever faced—but they had been smart. Drawing Kara down deeper and deeper into waters so black it had reminded her of deep space—

And even now she wasn’t entirely certain if she’d spent more time fighting the purple cephalopods or herself.

All she knew was that after what had felt like an eternity—it was all over. The fishermen and civilians on the pier were safe, J’onn was convinced she was even more reckless than her cousin and the hexapuses would think twice before showing their bulbous faces anywhere on the West Coast _ever again._

Today she had fought hard and won.

And now that it was over, she could finally lie down and rest.

And hopefully shut out the rest of the world for few hours or more. 

She was looking forward to curling up on the couch with her boys for a few cuddles and a black and white movie—or maybe a hot bath and some nostalgic NSYNC songs playing low in the background. She just needed _something_ to take her mind away from the grueling fight she’d just endured. And all of the reporters who’d been buzzing on the pier, speculating about that ‘awfully familiar’ symbol on her chest.

She wanted to forget for a bit about Ms. Grant and her incessant demands for an update on her designs for the park. And her mile-long to-do list before her big presentation—

And while she was at it—Kara _really_ didn’t want to have to put any more time or energy into worrying about the latest development with the Revenge—Kal’s visit had been new and terrifying, and she just wanted a chance to catch her breath before she had to sort out what it all meant.

But as Kara slowly drew closer and closer to the house, she felt her heart stumble and grow heavy in her chest—because somehow she knew—she wouldn’t find the rest she needed here. 

Not when home had become a battlefield too.

_The last thing_ Kara wanted to do right now was face Lena—she’d gladly go back for a second round with those tentacled _nightmares_ if it meant she could put off talking to her pretend wife for just a little longer. Because with Lena--she never knew what to expect. Things were already so precarious and could turn on a dime--she just didn't know if she had the strength for it.

Her insides still felt so—jumbled and _mangled_ and confusing. She felt—unbalanced. She was battered and bruised, and still a little water-logged, but it was more than that—she felt _weighed down_. As if these final steps were just _too much_.

She could feel it in her bones—somewhere deep between her shoulder blades. There was just _so much_ she had to carry—so many lies. So much regret. She always had to be so careful--

She didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up.

She just wanted to lay it all down—just for tonight. 

And then she could face it all fresh in the morning, when she would be revitalized by the light of Earth’s yellow sun. 

But for now she was just so— _tired_.

Kara rested for a moment once she topped the steps, leaning against the doorframe to try to quiet her heavy breathing. 

She tugged the screen door open with some difficulty and strained her ears, hoping for some signs of activity from within the house, but she couldn’t hear anything beyond the thundering of her own heart and a sharp ringing in her ears that she couldn’t seem to shake. 

Kara took a deep breath and did her best to square her shoulders—to prepare herself for whatever lay beyond the door—but it was flung open before Kara even had a chance to reach for it.

“Mom! You’re home!” One of the boys squealed.

Kara was pretty sure it was Walter, but it took her a moment to do more than blink down in surprise at several faces that looked as if they’d been through some kind of paint ball war featuring the brightest, most atrocious pink paint she’d ever seen.

“Oh, hey guys. H-how’re you—” Kara stammered, though she lost the will to even try to ask what was going on when all four boys surged forward, pushing and shoving and talking over each other all at once, before she’d gotten so much as a foot over the threshold. 

“Mom, thank Rao you’re home—”

“We’ve got so much to tell you—”

“—swear we didn’t tell her, Mom. She just saw you and—”

“—and then you were like, ‘Pow!’ ‘Bang!’ ‘Roundhouse kick!’ and it was _awesome_!”

“The guy on the news said you were down there for over twelve minutes—that’s gotta be a new record!”

“What’s for dinner?”

One of the twins had latched onto Kara’s leg, and another pair of arms had snaked around her middle. She did her best to return the pressure, but she was more preoccupied with casting her eyes about the front hall and den, desperately searching for someone who could offer a bit of clarity in this mess—she cringed when she heard Krypto bark and the rat-a-tat-tap of her paws on the hardwood floor.

“—wasn’t our fault."

“—would have been cooler if you fought sharks—”

“—said it was poison oak. And I guess we gotta wear this stuff now—"

“And that lady was so mean!”

“—almost killed us. But then we went to the police station and—"

“We saved some potstickers for you, Mom—”

Kara was grateful when Alex appeared to shush the boys and give Kara a moment to breathe—to try to make sense of the snippets and fragments she’d managed to make out amid their squabbling—but she was decidedly _less_ grateful when Alex yanked her more bodily into the house only to shove her into the corner without ceremony.

“Okay look, there’s no way to sugar coat it—"

“Wha—Alex” Kara only resisted weakly—she could feel her knees already quaking, whatever strength she had left was crumbling. She felt as if she were under water again, and she was just struggling to keep her head above everything Alex and the boys and the dogs were throwing at her. 

_Rao_ , she should have spent another hour under the sun lamps! If she could just put her feet up—

“Be quiet,” Alex hissed, glancing over her shoulder worriedly as if she were afraid someone else might appear any second, “Look, it’s over. There’s no way we can keep this up now, and it’s my fault. I’m sorry. This _whole thing_ is my fault but you’ve got to tell her before—”

“Kara!”

The entire house seemed to go still at the sound of that shrill and _very familiar_ voice.

Kara’s spine stiffened, but she found herself somehow powerless to keep from turning out of her sister’s grip to face Lena head on—and _oh_ , it felt like she’d been punched square in the chest.

Because Lena looked f _ierce_. She was storming down the hall with purpose, all grace and fury and _blazing_ green eyes. As beautiful and dangerous as the first time Kara had ever seen her.

“If that _even is_ your real name.” Lena snarled.

“Aw _shit_.” Kara heard Alex mutter.

But she didn’t have the time or wherewithal to formulate her own contribution before Lena was practically upon them.

“ _We need to talk_.” Lena said, each and every word barbed. 

Kara’s head was spinning even worse than before and her vision shook—the panic setting in as if she could feel the water closing in over her head, the pressure already boiling over well beyond what she knew she could take.

“I—” She didn’t really know what she meant to say, _I know. I’m sorry._ _I need a nap first?_ None of them felt right and so she didn’t say anything at all. Her heart had plummeted, fallen so low that she could barely feel it—she was cold all over. 

“Do you have _any idea_ what we’ve been through today?!” Lena exploded when Kara failed to express herself, “We have had one disaster after another—poison oak! Detention! Not enough vegetables for that stupid chicken soup!”

Kara blinked in confusion but thought it best to nod as if she understood. It was a simple enough motion, but turned out to be jarring all the same.

“I’ve warned you before that leaving me alone with them never ends well, but you _did it anyway_ and every time I thought it couldn’t get any worse _it did_! And _where were you?!_ Off fighting some giant sea-monsters in a cape and tights _as if I wouldn’t notice_!”

“ _See_?!” Alex hissed somewhere to her right—when Kara tried to turn her head to look for her, the room around her seemed to tilt dangerously, “I tried to tell you!”

“And why are _you_ still here?!” Lena demanded, turning the intensity of her gaze away from Kara for a moment, “If you don’t go now you’ll miss your date!”

Kara felt that blow more in her stomach than her chest—Alex had a date? Since when did _Alex_ have time for a _date_? And why did _Lena_ know about it before Kara?

Alex’s face had gone a funny color—almost more purple than red and her eyes darted frantically to Kara before she glared back at Lena, “I told you _this_ is more important.”

“And _I_ told _you_ I could handle it!” Lena fired back.

“You’re not the one I’m worried about!” Alex retorted, drawing herself up to her full height.

“ _God_ , would you _stop_ making excuses for her?! She’s got to own up to her own mistakes!”

Kara was finding it harder and harder to follow Alex and Lena’s conversation. The ringing and pounding in Kara’s head had gotten so loud—she could almost _feel_ it in the air around her as well, and she was starting to wonder if it would be quieter somewhere else—if maybe she could step out of her body and just escape all of the confusion. She knew she didn’t have the strength to fly away, but really _all_ she wanted was to curl up and close her eyes against the noise.

“—just trying to keep everybody calm.” Alex was saying haughtily.

“I’m her _wife_ , Alex,” Lena seethed, “Not a _villain_. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Kara knew the question hadn’t been directed to her, but she took a step forward as if to address it anyway—to try to explain and _own up_ to it all before Kal or Alex or some other entity beat her to it and made it all the easier for Lena to hate her forever because Kara was certain that was the absolute worst thing that could _ever_ happen, and Lena deserved to know--

She opened her mouth to say it--to tell her, but all that escaped was a breathless whimper.

Kara managed to catch a flash of green as Lena turned toward her in alarm—but then the room tilted violently and everything went black.

When Kara next blinked her eyes open, she did so cautiously. The pounding in her head had faded to a dull ache, and there was very little light, which she supposed meant some time had passed since she’d—well, _passed out_.

 _Rao_ , that was embarrassing.

But as Kara stretched and groggily started feeling out her surroundings, she realized that she felt _so much_ _better_. Rested. Relaxed.

Kara sighed and let her head fall back onto the pillow—and then immediately sat up with super-human speed to gape around the room. She’d been sleeping on the couch for so long now—she’d almost forgotten what her own bed felt like.

She was—in her bedroom. But where was—

_Crack_.

Kara hadn’t realized that she’d been floating until her head bumped the ceiling. She cursed under her breath and started out of habit to rub at the place that should smart from the connection, but then she let out a squeal of delight at the realization that she was _floating_ again. That after a little rest her powers had returned.

Kara grinned and forced her eyes closed, forced herself to _listen_ to the house around her, its creaks and groans and Pluto snuffling along the kitchen floor and one of the boys snoring in the nursery and a sniffle from the living room—

Kara stiffened in midair—that was Lena.

She wasn’t asleep, that much was obvious.

But why was she in the living room? Why had everything flopped like this—

One more sniffle and Kara touched down on the floor with a sigh, resigning herself to yet another difficult conversation—one that was long overdue.

She wasn’t ready for it—not in the slightest. She’d never had her identity outed like this—but there was so much more wrapped up in the Revenge, in this entire mess, that—it somehow felt like a relief.

Which was the _last thing_ Kara had expected.

She usually approached the subject more cautiously, tried to break the news gently to mitigate the pain placed on whoever was on the receiving end of the newsflash that she wasn’t human, but in a situation this bizarre—she supposed it would be nice to have one less thing she’d have to lie about. 

She also didn’t think she could go another night listening to Lena’s misery without doing anything about it.

So she reached down deep for some courage—and floated out into the hall.

She left her glasses on her nightstand. 

Kara approached Lena slowly—cautiously. She was huddled on the couch, her feet peeking out from the blanket she’d pulled over her head.

“Lena?” Kara called to announce herself even though she knew Lena must have heard the dogs stirring on the floor, and the thumping of their tails as they wagged a greeting.

Kara hesitated, her heart aching when she saw how Lena stiffened under her blankets and turned even more fully into the back of the couch, hiding her face away.

“Lena, I know you’re awake.” Kara finally said.

She waited, but Lena didn’t say anything.

Kara swallowed thickly.

“Are you—do you feel up to talking?”

“No.” Lena growled in a low whine. “Go away.”

Kara nodded, her eyes on the floor, “Okay. I can do that. But first I—Lena, I just need to say that I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about—well, who I really am.”

“It’s okay.” Lena’s voice was muffled, but Kara still heard it loud and clear. And it caught her a little off-guard.

_A lot_ off-guard, actually.

All Kara could do was gape. She hadn’t expected that—it felt too easy.

“But—but Lena, I-I’m from another planet.”

Kara waited for an explosion of rage or more tears, but there was nothing. She didn’t even hear a sniffle—and that scared her even more.

“Look, it’s okay if you’re mad. I’d understand completely if you were—”

“I’m not.” Lena mumbled, still with her back turned.

Kara frowned. “It doesn’t seem that way.”

Lena tensed again, and Kara could hear a note of irritation creeping into her voice, “Well, I’m not.”

“You sound mad.” Kara pointed out.

“I’m not!” Lena insisted, sounding even more frustrated than before.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” Kara demanded, unable to stop herself from poking Lena in the shoulder.

“Because!” Lena snapped, curling into an even tighter ball.

“Lena, I’m trying to apologize to you.” Kara tried to sound gentler—tried to sound reasonable, “I know you had a tough day and I wasn’t there for you and I just—I’m _sorry_. There’s a lot I need to say to you—like, _a lot_ , a lot, but I can’t do it right if you’re turned away. Will you _please_ just poke your head out?”

As she spoke, Kara tugged experimentally at the corner of the blanket Lena had pulled over herself, but was immediately met with resistance.

“No!” Lena whimpered, burrowing down deeper into the cushions.

Kara sighed, a little stung. “Lena, I know it's late, but this is important. Will you please just roll over so I can see your face?”

Lena shook her head emphatically, still refusing to turn.

Kara felt that pressure between her shoulder blades throbbing again, and there was a part of her that was sure she should push harder, that she should see this through and say everything that needed to be said before another hour of deception could pass, but--an even _bigger_ part of her knew this wasn't right. This wasn't how she wanted it to go.

She needed to look into Lena's eyes when she told her the truth--she needed to be able to face Lena head on, with honesty.

But Lena wasn't going to give her that tonight.

Kara bowed her head, her socks finally touching the ground as she deflated, “Okay, fine. But I want the couch back.”

Lena tensed, “No, ‘s okay. You can have the bed—”

“Lena, the bedroom has more privacy and besides, _I’m_ the one you’re mad at so _I’m_ the one who should be sleeping on the couch.”

“For the love of—I told you I’m _not_ mad!” Lena huffed, finally unfolding herself from the cushions and the blanket in the most dramatic manner possible, flinging her arms and legs about and glaring up at Kara with burning green eyes.

Kara’s eyes went wide,

“Oh.” Was all she could think to say, “You got poison oak too.”

“Yes!” Lena fumed, “Because _I’m_ the one who chased the boys around in the woods instead of getting them ready and _I’m_ the one who unplugged the phone so the school couldn’t call to tell us that they were having problems and _I’m_ the one who yelled at you and made you feel horrible when all you were trying to do was keep the world safe!” Lena paused to take a breath, but it was wet and ragged and there were tears in her eyes, “So just _take the bed_ , Kara, because I don’t deserve it!”

With that assertion, Lena heaved another pitiful sob and threw herself back down on the couch.

Kara blinked slowly, her lips caught somewhere between a surprised ‘o’ and a pained smile, “Oh, Lena, honey…”

“Just leave me!” Lena cried miserably, “Out here with the dogs and the beasts—"

Lena tensed and then flailed, shrieking in surprise when Kara scooped her up—blanket and all.

“Wha— _Kara_?! Put me down!”

“Look, I’m not gonna let you spend the night on the couch.” Kara said matter-of-factly, strolling down the hall at a leisurely pace, “I’m just _not_. I know how uncomfortable it is—”

“But you _need_ the bed!” Lena protested still trying to push away from Kara, but finding her chest to be rock solid and her grip like steel—her voice went a little breathless, “You just fought a consortium of octopi—"

“What I _need_ ,” Kara emphasized as she nudged the bedroom door open with her shoulder, “Is to know that my family is safe and sound, and that means _you_ too.”

All the breath left Lena’s lungs when her back hit the mattress. She blinked up at Kara, completely mesmerized.

“And for the record,” Kara hummed softly as she set about tucking Lena in, “Octopi have eight legs—the aliens I fought had six.”

Kara kept herself preoccupied with adjusting the pillows and the blankets to distract from the way her heart had started thundering. She knew this was not any kind of resolution, but she clung to the philosophy that they would be better able to face the heartache of the truth after a good night's rest. And she knew Lena had had precious few of those since coming into this house. Tonight she hoped to break that mold.

Once she was satisfied that Lena was appropriately nestled in, Kara placed Lena’s stuffed dolphin carefully on her chest, but froze when she felt Lena’s fingers fanning over her bicep—she hadn’t really marked how close they were—how little air there was to breathe between them.

“Did they hurt you?” Lena asked softly, her eyebrows scrunched in concern.

Kara’s throat went a little dry, and she had to swallow before she could answer, “I’ve been through worse.”

Lena didn’t say anything. She just continued to look at Kara with those green eyes full of worry—

“But even Kryptonians need oxygen.” Kara finally relented a little—she didn’t know why it seemed to untangle at least one knot in her chest to admit it out loud—to confess this weakness.

“Krypton.” Lena whispered it, as if she were afraid the alien word were fragile, that she might hurt Kara if she said it wrong, “Is that where you came from?”

Kara nodded, her heart had leapt into her throat when Lena had started sliding her fingers up her arm to her neck—she wasn’t sure what would escape if she opened her mouth. A whimper, a sigh—a torrent of truth. All seemed possible. All seemed _necessary._

Lena pressed her palm warmly against Kara’s cheek, her expression thoughtful.

“Did I know?” She asked quietly, her eyes searching Kara’s face, “Did you tell me? Before?”

Kara closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 _She’s a Luthor_ , Winn had warned as if it were a mark against her—something terribly _wrong_.

 _It’s over_ , Alex had said, and she’d meant it.

There had been a fear in both of them.

And Kara could feel it too.

Not down deep in her bones, but somewhere else—maybe in the crinkle between her eyebrows, or in the prickling at the base of her scalp. It was there, but if she chose—she could ignore it.

“I didn’t have to tell you.” Kara finally said slowly, and blinked her eyes open so she could look down on Lena’s face—even with those bright pink splotches dotting her neck and chin, she was still incredibly beautiful, “You figured it out on your own.”

She felt another knot loosen in her chest when Lena smiled—bright and dazzling.

“I did?”

Kara nodded, “Yup. I was doing something reckless and stupid and you just—saw right through me.”

Lena looked pleased, but then seemed to grow a little shy and she glanced up at Kara from beneath long lashes, “And what _is_ your real name?”

Kara swallowed, choosing to ignore the goosebumps she could feel forming over her arms, “Kara Zor-El.”

“Kara Zor-El.” Lena repeated, this time less of a whisper and more of a purr, as if she wanted to savor it, “It’s beautiful.”

Kara let out soft hum of appreciation, “You too.”

Lena frowned and tilted her head, “Beg pardon?”

Kara felt heat flush to her cheeks and she stumbled back a little, “Oh, nothing—I just—I was saying goodnight. Yes. Goodnight, Lena. We can—umm, talk in the morning.”

She told herself she meant it. Told herself that she was just putting it off for _one more night—_

“Kara.” Lena said.

And she used that authoritative tone that made Kara instinctively clamp her mouth shut and made her palms start to sweat a little—the one that took her right back to those days on the yacht when she’d been so desperate to please Mrs. Helena Lord.

“Kara, you just revealed to me your true name.” Lena said firmly, “Which means we’re not strangers anymore. Would you _please_ stop treating me like one?”

Several moments passed in complete silence—as Kara struggled with herself. Struggled to come up with something to say that wouldn’t tip the scale too terribly far one way or another—

Because she didn’t really know how they’d gotten here—to this moment, this _place_ that felt quiet and _calm_ after so long feeling nothing but _tension_ and anxiety and—fear. And she knew it couldn’t _possibly_ last. Because this was only a scratch on the surface—one knot in an ever growing coil that felt like a ton of lead buried deep in her stomach. 

But it was all she felt she could handle tonight.

Didn't they both deserve a little peace?

Without saying a word, Kara tugged off her socks and then climbed up onto the bed to fill the space beside Lena. She held her breath—and tried to find it, that inner calm.

She jolted when Lena shifted and turned onto her side to face Kara. 

“I’m sorry I was mad.” Lena murmured.

Kara took a ragged breath—her entire body trembling from a pang that resounded deep in her chest.

“Lena,” Kara was careful as she rolled to face Lena--careful not to close the distance any further, “You get to be mad. I know I should have told you sooner—I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

Lena chuckled and glanced down to her fingers where she plucked absentmindedly at the stitching in the blanket, “You and your chivalry—”

“It’s part of the superhero code.” Kara muttered, glad when Lena rewarded her with another smile. She allowed herself to relax a little when Lena rolled onto her back. 

It was comfortably quiet for a moment—and Kara’s heartbeat finally started to even out. The pressure eased—and she considered letting her eyes drift closed.

But then Lena's voice called to her again. 

“Kara?” Lena ventured tentatively, “Do you remember Krypton?”

Kara took a deep breath, and then let it go.

“Vividly.”

Kara could see a light blush dusting Lena's cheeks as the woman reached up self-consciously to brush her long dark hair back from her face, “You’ve—probably told me all about it before, haven’t you.”

Kara was glad it was dark—glad Lena couldn’t see her grimace as a fresh bout of guilt tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

Gently—and moving carefully so she wouldn’t disturb Lena—Kara found Lena's hand and squeezed lightly.

She knew this wasn't fair-- _none_ of it was fair. And it wasn't Alex's fault--at least not entirely--it was her own.

Kara had to close her eyes against a wetness in her eyes that she couldn’t explain, “I can always tell you again.”

And when Lena gave her a grateful, watery smile, Kara couldn't help but wonder if this was perhaps the gentler way--to dismantle the Revenge not all at once, but by revealing one small truth, and then another and another--unraveling it carefully. So that Lena wouldn't be crushed under it--so that it wouldn't cut so deep. 

"I'd like that," Lena admitted after a quiet moment of connection--of blinking slowly and breathing the same air. Then she yawned, "But tomorrow, okay, darling?" 

Kara nodded, and finally let her eyes drift closed--Lena's sleeping, pink-splotched face seared on her mind, "Tomorrow."


	67. Maybe This Time...Alex will get Something Right

There were dark clouds hanging low over Midvale, ominous and almost—sad. But the moon pierced through. One curved end of the crescent rose above the cloudbank—perfectly framed by the second-story precinct window.

Some people might call it a smile. Like that Cheshire cat from _Alice in Wonderland_.

Maggie just thought it looked like toenail.

She glared at it, for hours and hours, as the captain droned on. 

She _could not believe_ that her night had turned out this way—not when everything had been going so well, so _perfect_ actually, right up until Alex had sent her a string of strange, rambling texts cancelling their date.

 _That_ had come out of nowhere.

And Maggie had been completely thrown by it.

She’d been standing there, staring at her phone with her mouth hanging open _like an idiot_ when her squadmates had rushed in, fresh from the pier. And at first she’d been grateful that the chief had called an emergency debrief, grateful that the station had swept her up in a wave of nervous energy because at least it could distract her from the fact that her evening plans had just imploded, leaving a gaping, lonely void—

But now, going on _four hours later_ —she’d had the time she needed to get over her shock and _astonishment,_ had plenty of time to agonize over whether she should call Alex to ask her what the hell had happened, or maybe send out a simple question mark like a white flag into the ether—and then she’d spent the better part of an hour talking herself out of throwing her phone through the goddamned window—but all of those ideas had been quite soundly rejected and then forgotten.

Now she was _furious_.

Sure, she’d paid as much attention as she could afford when the chief first brought out the projector and started his little presentation about the rise in ‘mysterious’ alien activity in the area. But when one of her older colleagues shouted that it was all a government hoax to drive up property taxes—she started to tune it all out and stew in her own little bubble in the corner.

She just—couldn’t believe that she’d fallen for it. _Again._

Couldn’t believe that she’d let herself believe Alex was different—

The signs to the contrary had been there. She should have left well enough alone—shouldn’t have pushed her.

Maybe coming to Midvale hadn’t been the best decision she’d ever made.

“For the last time, Bill, there is nothing the Piggly Wiggly could be putting in the water to turn the octopuses psycho—” Maggie vaguely heard the captain say.

It was the kind of argument that had her shaking her head and questioning even more fervently what had ever possessed her to leave Gotham—everything had been so much simpler there.

“How do you know?” The balding officer named Bill demanded, “Wilbur Budd had a guy on his show who grew an extra thumb after eating there!”

“ _God_ , you have got to stop listening to that KRAB crap.” A young beat cop on the front row sighed. And she wasn’t alone. 

There had been grumblings and tensions building for the last hour or so. And Maggie supposed she couldn’t blame them. A lot of her fellow cops had families or goldfish or _something_ to get home to. And it was late. The coffee had run out. At least one of the fluorescent lights kept flickering.

And this wasn’t the first time Bill had interrupted to air one of his crack-theories.

 _Everyone_ was on edge.

But Bill was apparently as terrible at reading the room as Maggie was at reading that sexy _but infuriating_ Alex Danvers.

“Well if these things were any _real_ threat, Superman would’ve swooped in.” Bill stipulated smugly, as if that solved the whole case.

“Somebody _did_ swoop in.” A gruffer, _sterner_ , voice fired back, “It just _wasn’t_ Superman.”

“Which brings me right back to my earlier point!” The captain interjected loudly—he looked so relieved to have finally gotten an opening, Maggie half expected him to do a jig. Or start whistling.

But he only brandished his baton and pointed over-enthusiastically at the enlarged map of the area he had pinned up on the wall.

“We are not the only city that’s been plagued by super-powered vigilantes running amok in our streets—”

“But sir?” A timid voice arose from one of the younger cops sitting on the front row—Maggie was pretty sure she had been one of the ones who had been on site down at the pier.

“The flying girl,” The woman said, glancing around for support from those sitting closest to her, “She-she saved all those people. She wasn’t—”

“ _This time._ ” The captain emphasized with a severe look.

“This time she used her powers for good, but who’s to say she won’t turn them against us in the future? Hmmm?”

The room went quiet at the captain’s question.

Maggie just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the toenail in the sky.

So much for Midvale being big on _second chances_. 

She’d heard this kind of frightened posturing before. If she had to bet, she’d say this new hero would need a few more saves—a fire maybe. Or a plane. And at least one good interview with the town’s trusted newspaper to win over the hearts of the townspeople.

It wouldn’t convince everyone—every town was bound to have at least one hard-liner like Bill, but some good PR, a photo-shoot or two to get her face out—and soon this hero would be as much a part of this city as that crumbling old theater that seemed incapable of spelling even the simplest words correctly or that statue of a founder or someone important down off the main square who was missing a head.

“—put out word to our brothers in blue in Metropolis and Gotham, and I’ve been told to expect a panel of experts to arrive in the next few days to provide us with some key insight.” The captain was finishing up.

 _Finally._ Maggie rubbed at her eyes and tuned back in.

There were a few overeager officers in the back who had started to rise, and they earned a stern scowl from the captain.

“ _In the meantime_ , stay vigilant.” The captain emphasized, pausing pointedly until everyone grudgingly lowered back into their seats. “Our primary duty is to keep the citizens of Midvale safe.”

The captain swept his dark eyes over the room one final time before visibly deflating—the lateness of the hour weighing heavily on his shoulders as he yawned, “Dismissed.”

Maggie winced against the unpleasant sound of every chair in the bullpen scraping back along the floor as her squadmates started to stretch their legs. Most were cautious of sleeping limbs and moved creakily at first—all except Bill, really. He made a beeline right for the restroom amid snickers from all those who’d watched him down five cups of coffee without even trying to discourage him.

Maggie rolled her neck from side to side and then rocked to her feet. She was still too angry, too— _wired_ to be stiff. She could feel heat in her blood even now. But she was tired. Her heart felt heavy—she just wanted to forget the whole day. Just— _erase_ the whole damn thing from start to finish.

 _Damn Alex_. Damn her and her stupid dimples and her stupid, shitty promises.

“Sawyer!”

Maggie couldn’t help the way her shoulders tensed when she froze before turning to answer the captain’s call. She flexed her hands several times, clenching fists and letting them go, as she approached, hoping that might get rid of some of the darker energy she’d stored up over the last few hours. But it didn’t seem to work.

Her strides were more stomping than anything, and she knew she was scowling, “Sir?”

“Sawyer, good.” The captain sighed, barely looking up as he ran a hand over his balding head, “Listen, I want you to be our pointwoman when the panel gets here.”

“Pointwoman?” Maggie repeated. 

“ _You know_.” The captain huffed, “Greet them. Show them around and make them feel welcome.”

“You mean babysit?” Maggie frowned, deepening the crease between her eyebrows. She didn’t like the sound of that.

But rather than answering her question directly, her captain forced a laugh and glanced away, “I thought you’d be glad for a chance to work with some of your old buddies again.”

Maggie wasn’t amused. Her eye twitched at the loud burst of laughter she heard from across the room as her squadmates made their way leisurely out of the building out into a night full of possibilities.

Maggie tried not to hate them too much. She hoped that crusty, yellow toenail would light their way. 

“Depends on who they send.”

“Fair enough.” The captain sighed, finally getting his papers in order enough that he could level Maggie with a solemn look, “Look, I’m not asking this of you as a test of loyalty or anything like that. You’ve shown a lot of dedication and drive since you started with us, and I admire that. I just need someone who won’t bullshit me keeping an eye on these guys, alright. We’re way out of our depth here, and I just need a nod from you every now and again to let me know that they’re taking us seriously. Can you do that?”

Maggie took a breath.

She had the uncanny urge to laugh—to tell the chief that he’d have better luck asking Bill or even _Front Desk Henry_ for something like that, since Maggie clearly had lost her ability to read the truth in people. To tell the difference between the truth and a stupid, fairytale wish.

But when she reached up to rub absently at her jaw, her eyes naturally flitted to the left—and she saw something that made her throat seize up.

Well, not really a _something._

More like a some _one_. 

It was Alex. Waiting on the other side of the check-in partition.

She was in the same outfit Maggie remembered seeing earlier in the day, but she was holding a bunch of roses. They looked a little wilted. And so did Alex, if Maggie was honest. Her shoulders were a little hunched and her mouth was twisted in that unsure way she had as she warily watched the room emptying. 

She looked ready to bolt. 

And yet—she stood there. Braving all of the curious looks from Maggie's squadmates and colleagues. Waiting.

And when their eyes met—Maggie saw her tremble.

Maggie took a deep breath, trying to tamp down a quake or two of her own—and forced herself turn away and face her captain, though she’d almost entirely forgotten what it was he’d said. Her throat had gone dry, but she somehow managed to bob her head up and down. “Yeah. Sure.”

The chief grinned and tapped her shoulder in passing, “Good. Have a good night, Sawyer.”

Maggie barely registered the captain’s farewell—barely registered much of anything, except the rapid pounding of her own heart. While her back was turned, she did her best to steel herself—to prepare herself for another round with Alex Danvers.

The bullpen was nearly empty now. Only Maria Ramirez and a few others still lingered.

The janitor had started the vaccum cleaner on the far side of the room.

But Maggie ignored them all as she made her way slowly, but deliberately across the room.

She eyed Alex up and down, searching for something of the woman she’d met before—of the strength and determination she’d seen in her last night. She really only saw it in her fists, where she clutched those roses as if she couldn’t feel the thorns at all.

“Hey.” Maggie said as noncommittally as she possibly could.

Alex swallowed. “Hey.”

Maggie chose not to mince words. She jutted her chin forward, indicating the flowers, “Those for me?”

Alex nodded and held them out awkwardly for Maggie, “Yes. I—wanted to apologize for—”

“Freaking out on me.” Maggie finished without warmth—not yet ready to let go of the hurt—the sting of Alex’s abrupt rejection. She swore she could still feel a few pieces of her busted heart stuck in her lungs, cutting a little deeper with each breath.

But she took the flowers. 

Alex flinched, but didn’t deflate. “Yeah, I—my life just went a little, umm, crazy—and I—”

“I just don’t get it Alex.” Maggie interrupted, unable to hold in her frustration any longer, “I told you last night, if you were still on the fence about it that you should have just taken your time but then—”

“No, no, I’m not having second thoughts.” Alex insisted, so fiercely that Maggie was almost inclined to believe her.

_Almost._

“I’m not, I swear.” Alex reiterated, reaching out to Maggie as if by touching her she could better make her point, “That’s—that’s not what’s happening— _at all_ , I just—"

Alex paused, clearly struggling for words.

And Maggie waited, running her thumb along the edge of one of the thorns on the stem of her roses.

“I just feel like the universe just keeps magically smacking me down from being happy—”

Maggie’s eyebrows lifted, but when Alex refused to be more forthcoming, she frowned, “That’s it? Come on, Danvers, you’ve gotta give me more than that.”

Maggie could see Alex considering—the way she bit her lip and her eyes darted around the room, still afraid of being seen. Which Maggie thought was pretty ironic, considering how brazen Alex had been before, when she'd come into the squadroom looking all the world like a woman on a mission. She hadn't seemed to mind all the eyes watching her then. 

“I have just—always felt so responsible.” Alex finally admitted, though Maggie could see she was choosing her words carefully, “Like, _weight of the world_ responsible. And my parents have always relied on me to look after my sister, so any time I _ever_ chose to do something for myself, it—it ended badly.”

This was new. And Maggie couldn’t help the way her heart seemed to soften—she blamed those big brown eyes.

“I get that Alex, but—” Maggie’s nostrils flared and she narrowed her eyes slightly, still unwilling to give in too easily—to be made the fool yet again, “how do I know you’re not gonna flake on me again—”

“I won’t.” Alex cut in sharply—almost desperately, “I swear, I—I know now that my life is never going to slow down, it’s just—always going to be this crazy, messy thing and there’s always going to be disasters waiting just around the corner and I just—I can’t let that stop me from doing the things that I know will make me happy even if—even if they scare me because life’s too short and I just, really want to give this a chance because I really…”

Alex trailed off, as she got a little lost in Maggie’s eyes.

Maggie had been slowly losing a battle with herself and she could feel a softer kind of warmth easing that sting in her chest—mending that crack to her pride.

She’d almost forgotten there were other people in the squadroom.

“She ah, does make a pretty good argument.” A timid but hopeful voice encouraged.

Maggie bit her lip—the back of her neck was burning, and she knew Maria and the janitor and Lazy Eye Larry and that gossiping _insufferable_ Rodriguez and at least a few others were probably all lined up to watch the show, but she didn’t dare turn around—she didn’t want to look away from Alex’s shining brown eyes for even a moment.

“C’mon, Sawyer—say something!” Rodriguez encouraged in what he probably thought was a whisper.

Maggie rolled her eyes and rubbed at the corner of her mouth, schooling her expression, as she considered what to say.

Eventually, she settled on brevity.

“They’re right you know. If you ever decided to leave the agency—you’d make a pretty good lawyer.”

Alex let out a half-snort, something that was wet and unbelieving and so terribly grateful. 

Maggie could see it all in the shine of her eyes.

Maggie gestured vaguely with the roses, needing to alleviate a some more of the tension, “Plus the flowers really helped.”

Alex’s lips finally lifted into a trembling smile, “Yeah, I hoped they—I hoped you’d like them.”

There was subdued cheering and gasps of relief behind them as Maggie stepped forward into a hug from the taller government operative.

“You get one, Alex.” Maggie murmured into Alex’s ear as she fanned her free hand over her back. She felt Alex nod into her shoulder.

“Understood.” 

Then, as she straightened and stepped back, Alex gave her a soulful look, “I’m sorry.”

Maggie covered the way those two little words affected her by shrugging her shoulders and adjusting the strap of her bag, “Yeah, well if you want to make your case even better you could give me a ride home.”

Alex nodded, “You got it.”

Then she scrambled to pull the swinging partition open for Maggie to walk through. She surprised Maggie when she pressed something else into her hands--something sleek and oblong--and a little heavy.

Maggie frowned down at it, her mind still a little sluggish after the hard reset to her system Alex's smile and hug and apology had all wreaked, "What--?"

Alex was grinning, and she deftly plucked the helmet back from Maggie's hands and then very carefully and securely slotted it over her head, "Safety first."

And even though Alex wiggled her eyebrows as she said it in the dorkiest way imaginable--Maggie couldn't help but think, _There she is._ That highly trained, no nonsense government operative--that shy and fumbling woman only just starting to accept her new normal. That incredibly intense, incredibly beautiful and tender-hearted woman. 

_There she is, the Alex Danvers I love._


	68. Day 10: Early Morning Conversations

There wasn’t a lot of light creeping in through the bedroom window when Kara first blinked her eyes open in the morning. She supposed that was because the stormclouds had decided to stay another day—but despite the grey gloom, she was warm. Warm and _relaxed_.

And it was peaceful—the house was quiet. Even the kitchen sink had stopped dripping for a change. She could only hear the earliest of robins warming up for their morning serenade, a few warblers too somewhere out in the tract of woods—and further off the softest whispers of the ocean. She didn’t care to listen any further—to turn her ear toward the town and its mundane routine of shift changes and engines turning over and joggers on the pavement and all that comes with an early morning rush.

No, Kara was content to listen to the birds and Lena’s heartbeat—and just block out the rest.

Kara’s lips twitched into a smile as she lifted her head to gaze down at Lena—so relieved to see that she was still sleeping soundly. It was _her_ warmth that Kara was feeling. Her peace that had let Kara sleep so well—better than she had in years, really.

But she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about that.

Because somehow, despite all of Kara’s best efforts, Lena had refused to let there be any room for _chivalry_ between them. She’d thwarted all of Kara’s attempts to keep distance between them in the night—every time Kara tried to scoot away, or slide further down the bed, Lena found her under the blankets. An arm tossed over Kara's stomach. Their ankles hooked together.

Eventually, Kara had just given up trying to evade her and allowed the sleeping woman to latch onto her like a barnacle. And they’d fallen asleep entwined.

Lena was still there now, hugging Kara close like she would a pillow, her head nestled snugly on Kara’s shoulder with her breath coming even and warm—and it shouldn’t feel so _natural_. To be linked like this—to be _holding_ each other like this, warm and lazy and content—but it _did_.

It felt so _right_. So _easy_.

And _that_ , more than anything, urged Kara to try to wake Lena—or at least detach her. Before she let her eyes drift closed and fell back into dreams of more of _this_ —started dreaming of _having_ this. Because that was— _Rao_ , that was even worse than fantasizing about kissing Lena, because that at least Kara could blame on attraction, or frustration—or maybe a mixture of the two, but a dream like this—the _ache_ to hold Lena like this felt like a precursor to a deeper problem. A deeper desire.

One that was all kinds of _impossible_.

Kara swallowed around an unexplainable dryness in her throat as she carefully picked at Lena's fingers, and then tugging at her arms—tentative and careful. But Lena’s grip was strong. Stubborn, really.

And Kara was afraid that using even a little force might hurt Lena—so instead she blew a bit of super chilled air into Lena’s face.

She smiled when Lena scrunched up her nose and turned her face more directly into Kara’s neck.

“Lena.” Kara prodded, hoping to coax her more securely out of sleep.

Lena let out a soft sigh and nuzzled even closer. Her voice came low and raspy, muffled and sleepy, “You smell like the sea.”

Kara’s brain seemed to short-circuit for a moment—Lena’s voice seemed to have reached down inside her to pluck at some long forgotten strings—well, not _technically_ long forgotten. In fact, Lena had practically strummed her way through an entire symphonic movement the other night when she’d almost kissed ~~and tackled~~ Kara.

All of her strings were fine tuned--aching for Lena's touch and it was familiar by now, the way her blood lit up and her heart started a hopeful trot.

It took _a lot_ of willpower for Kara to remember that she had a goal, that she was trying to get out of the bed and Lena’s embrace to get up and face the day. That she had things to do-- _important_ things to say.

And it didn’t help that in the stillness of the morning, even in this dim light—it was essentially impossible for Kara _not_ to notice the little details about Lena that seemed so incredibly new and vastly important. Like the surprising fact that the ends of Lena’s hair had curled in the night. Or that she had a mole on her throat that bobbed a little each time she breathed.

Kara swallowed thickly and with great reluctance turned her head away—these little details weren’t earned. They felt stolen—taken unfairly.

She felt guilty for how _good_ just _sleeping beside Lena_ had made her feel.

“Oh, I’m umm—sorry.” Kara mumbled, trying to come up with a better strategy for escape while also actively ignoring the way Lena had started slowly rubbing her foot up and down Kara’s calf—it was a strangely soothing sensation, but also—it tickled.

“’s okay.” Lena yawned, and Kara felt the flutter of her eyelashes against her neck, “I love the sea.”

Kara’s breath caught—suddenly she felt too hot. Almost _flushed_. Because her brain was stitching these two perfectly harmless sayings, "You smell like the sea" and "I love the sea", trying to draw an increasingly dangerous and potentially earth-shattering conclusion--

"Did Krypton have oceans?" Lena asked dreamily, barely able to keep her eyes open. 

"Oh, umm--no, actually." Kara managed to answer even though her mind was still spinning, "It was very--there were mountains. And canyons. We didn't have oceans. Or birds."

"No birds?"

Kara shook her head, "The first time I saw a seagull I thought it was a monster. An angel of death or something--I thought it was the scariest thing I had ever seen."

Lena chuckled, a light sound--Kara could feel it reverberating in her own chest. "Well, you wouldn't be far off. Seagulls are not the friendliest of Earth's creatures." 

"No," Kara agreed, seriously fighting the urge to twirl one of Lena's curls around her finger, "But dolphins are nice, though."

"Yes," Lena agreed, but there was something breathless in her voice--something almost sad, "I--I think I quite like them too, but I--don't remember why."

Kara's heart ached for her, and she was suddenly reminded of what she still needed to do--the knots that needed unraveled, if she could only find the courage, but luckily--

She was offered a distraction by way of her ringing cell phone.

_Thank Rao._

It was a bright, chipper tune that cut through the quiet of the morning, a ringtone one of the boys had helped her choose, but Kara heard Lena groan as she melody started again at a higher volume—clearly her fake wife wasn’t a fan.

“Ugh!”

“Sorry.” Kara soothed, tentatively lifting her head to squint around the room for her phone. But before she could ask to be released, she felt Lena shudder in her arms and squeeze just a little tighter.

“Don’t go.” Lena whined.

Kara took a sharp breath and lifted her eyes to the ceiling again—she hated how easy it was for Lena to break through her resolve. Just one tear-filled look and she could make Kara forget the color of her own cape. One smile could have Kara turning her back on her own friends, on the _world_ even. And a few choice words like, _please, just stay home_ or _don’t go—_ and Kara had never felt so _human_. So completely grounded and— _helpless_.

_She’s my kryptonite._ Kara realized with a jolt—and it was at once the most exciting and terrifying thing she could have ever discovered. 

Kara sat up rather quickly—needing movement, needing _change_ because her heart was truly racing now—and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling _._

Lena let out an indignant huff as she was transferred to the side, but it turned into a sharp gasp when Kara used her superspeed to retrieve her phone from under a rumpled pile of clothes just inside the door—and return before the ringtone even had a chance to start a third cycle. It all happened so quickly, only the rustle of the sheets stood as evidence that Kara had moved at all.

Lena sat up, her eyes bright with delight and her mouth hanging open.

Kara held up a hand, unable to keep the smugness out of the twitch of her lips as she tugged her glasses onto her face— _Rao_ , maybe she was wrong. Maybe Lena _wasn’t_ her kryptonite because when she looked at her like _that_ , so eager and surprised and _awed_ —Kara felt like she could do _anything_. Like she could take on those ridiculous hexapuses _and_ LiveWire all at once. Or build a gazebo that even Ms. Grant would grudgingly call adequate. Or maybe even fly all the way out to the sun, and circle the moon on her way home. 

_How can it be both_ , she marveled as she fumbled with her phone in order to avoid Lena’s burning green eyes, _how can she make me feel both helpless and so powerful?_

“Here, do you want me to—” Lena offered, reaching.

Kara scooted out of reach, her cheeks burning as she finally jammed her thumb over the green button, “No, no, it’s okay, I—I got it.”

She knew she had no reason to be flustered—except that Lena looked even more beautiful in this somber light, with her hair rumpled and curled from sleep and Kara’s sweatshirt that she’d been wearing dipping low—

Kara turned her head away quickly—she gripped the phone so hard she could hear the casing creak, “H-hello?”

“Kara?”

“Hey.” Kara breathed, relaxing, “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” The voice on the line let out a choked almost laugh—one that was almost _too bubbly_ to belong to Alex, “N-nothing’s wrong—can’t a girl call her sister without there being some big emergency?”

“Is that Alex?” Lena asked, nearly making Kara fall out of the bed when she crawled so close that her breath ghosted over Kara’s free ear. “Will you tell her good morning from me?”

“—wanted to check in and make sure you were—alright. After everything kind of umm, exploded.” Alex was saying.

Kara blinked, a crinkle manifesting between her eyebrows as she tried to formulate a response while ignoring how feverish she felt with Lena practically leaning against her. She could feel her pressing into her side, warm and awake now. The house was waking up around them too. Kara could hear grumbles up in the nursery, some feet on the stairs as one of the boys plodded blearily down to use the restroom—the birds were in full voice, and Pluto was not happy with their songs. He barked.

“So umm, are you?” Alex kept going, her apprehension plain, “Aright, I mean? Did you and Lena—work it out?”

“Yeah, we’re—good.” Kara was proud of herself for even managing that much because Lena had brushed Kara's hair off her shoulder--just a light touch, but it was electrifying somehow. And now that Kara didn't have the luxury of her hair to act as a veil--Lena was watching her _very intently_ as if she could will herself into the conversation by watching each and every word drop from Kara’s lips—give them her approval.

“She ummm—said to tell you good morning.” Kara mumbled, gripping a fistful of the blanket to ground herself.

“Oh.” Alex sounded surprised, “She’s—there with you?”

“Yeah.” Kara nodded, her eyes instinctively darting to Lena again.

“So…you told her then?” Alex asked.

And then when Kara didn’t answer right away, “How’d she take it?”

“Ask her if it went well.” Lena said eagerly, dropping her hand onto Kara’s thigh as if that might urge her further—as if she didn’t realize how much of a jolt it would send through Kara.

“Wait—if _what_ went well?” Kara frowned, letting her phone fall a little below her ear to give herself a break from struggling with what felt like an assault on two fronts--Alex's barrage of questions and Lena's insistent curiosity. It was too early in the morning for her to deal with both--so she chose to redirect her introspection--she could _always_ focus on Alex. She hadn’t done that enough lately, if she were honest.

Kara frowned as she tried to think back, tried to retrieve what slivers of memory she had from the night before—before everything had _exploded_. There had been something— _something_ Alex and Lena had been arguing about. _Something_ that Alex was afraid to make too important— _something_ she had sacrificed again to put Kara and her secrets first.

Lena huffed and rolled her eyes, shoving Kara’s shoulder impatiently, “Just _ask_ her.”

Kara had the urge to stick out her tongue, but curbed it and just lifted her phone to her ear again.

“Alex.” Kara cut over whatever Alex was saying—some ramble about how messed up things had gotten and further apologies for her part in it. Kara chose to ignore all that and focus on the other matter—the thing furthest from the Revenge and the heartache they were already starting to feel, “Lena wants to know if you had a _favorable_ night.”

Lena glared at her.

“Oh, ummm, well, I—”

Alex sounded sheepish. Which immediately helped to sharpen Kara’s focus. She felt as if she'd missed something--something important. 

“Alex,” Kara murmured, doing her best to keep her voice from erring too close to suspicion, “did you—”

Kara was interrupted by a loud thump overhead—followed immediately a _very familiar_ mixture of laughter and curses.

Both Kara and Lena looked up.

“Don’t worry.” Lena sighed as she swung her legs out over the edge of the bed. She let her fingers trail over Kara’s arm as she stood to go, “I’ve got them.”

Kara was both surprised and pleased to see this change--to see Lena volunteering her time for the boys where before she'd shrunk in trepidation. She caught herself grinning widely as she watched Lena go. and lowered her glasses so she could track her movements down the hall. 

“Boys!” Lena called before she’d even reached the bottom of the stairs, “What’s going on up there?”

“Nothing!” The boys shouted back—and Kara could see them scrambling to get back into their room where they could more believably feign their innocence.

“Kara?” The tentativeness in Alex’s voice broke through Kara’s wistful smile and had her focusing again on just the blanket in her fist and the phone pressed to her ear.

“Yeah?”

There was silence on the line for a moment, and Kara could almost imagine the way Alex’s lips would twist as she considered what to say—the worry that would turn her eyes almost red like rust. She sat up straighter, holding her breath--

“I’m sorry.”

Kara heart clenched, “For what?”

“For— _everything_. For not being there for you last night. Or the night before. For pushing you away all this time. For not—telling you about Maggie.”

“Maggie.” Kara repeated, and even as she said it, something _clicked; a_ flash of dark eyes and adorable dimples—teasing in the bar and Alex’s big hearteyes. And then—beer and sexy music and unfinished pizza. Alex's dark mood--she'd said she never wanted to talk about Maggie again.

And Kara should have pushed. Should have asked why--but instead she'd just watched her sister spiral. Watched her lash out.

She'd gotten too caught up in her own mess--in her own problems to feel she could offer an anchor for Alex.

But she should have known better--they'd always made more sense together.

They were stronger together. _Better_ together. 

And if they were ever going to find a way out of the messes they'd made of their lives--they were going to need each other. 

Kara swallowed hard and when she spoke again, her voice was soft, “Did you—get to have a proper date this time?”

Kara waited—and closed her eyes with relief when she finally heard Alex’s shaky exhale. “Yes.”

Kara nodded, “I’m glad.”

There was a beat of silence, and Kara swore she could hear Alex struggling not to cry. She could hear other things too. Could hear _life_ happening around her again—scuffling overhead and one of the twins laughing. The dogs digging into their kibble and the slap of the screen door. Someone in the kitchen, filling a glass with water and then stepping away. The faucet starting to drip again.

"I--haven't told Lena." Kara finally said after a long moment, "Not everything. Not yet." 

She was bracing--waiting for a condemnation. A hiss of breath or cluck of the tongue. Some sign from her big sister that she'd messed up again. 

But Alex didn't give her any of that. 

"Okay." She said simply. 

"Okay?" Kara repeated.

"Okay." Alex agreed. "You're not ready."

"No. Not yet." 

"Okay." Alex said again, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kara settled back against the headboard, her eyes straying to a tear in the wallpaper—it really was time to commit to the projects she’d only started half-heartedly. It was time to tear it all down and put up the new. To make good on her promises. Starting today. 

"Only if you'll tell me more about Maggie."

Alex let out a bark of a laugh--one that wasn't too bright or too strained, but was loud and relieved. One that echoed. 

"Fair enough." 


	69. Tension isn't the Only Thing that Grows

It was several hours before Kara finally ventured out of the bedroom. She and Alex had always been close, always had a special bond, but—it had been a long time since they’d had such a deep talk like that. They’d both been so caught up in one thing or another, Kara with her boys and Alex with her work, that they’d just—made excuses. Let too many little things go unsaid until there was a wide invisible chasm stretching between them.

It had never been irreparable, never been a clean break or schism, but still—Kara felt like a step had been taken in the right direction, a step not toward reunion, because they had never truly been separated, not completely anyway, but—maybe just toward a better understanding of one another. A step toward even deeper love.

And Kara was glad, after her talk with Alex. She felt light. Happy.

And hungry.

 _Very_ hungry.

So she went to raid the kitchen.

Julien was hard at work at the table, fresh marker stains joining the pink splashes of calamine lotion dotting his arms and hands. And though he was alone, Kara could tell the other boys had made their way through as well, there were Poptart wrappers and stray bits of cereal scattered among the discarded marker lids and stray crayons—but it looked as if most of their plates and spoons and other breakfast things had been deposited in the sink. Which she supposed was an improvement she’d have to thank Lena for—

She had a list of things she needed to thank Lena for, actually.

But first, she needed coffee.

Kara paused on her way to retrieve a mug to ruffle Julien’s hair and peer over his shoulder, “Oh wow—those sharks look great, buddy.”

Julien grinned, adding a downward slash of red over the eyes to make his creations appear even more terrifying, “Thanks!”

Kara frowned and cocked her head to the side as she gestured to the pink blob caught in the middle of what looked like a shark whirlpool, “Who’s that though?”

Julien didn’t even look up, “Mrs. Umbridge.”

Kara nodded, accepting the four year old's judgement as justifiable, “Makes sense.”

She kissed the top of her son’s head and moved as if to get around him, but Julien grabbed her arm to stop her,

“Wait, wait!”

Julien stood up in his chair and started sifting through the spread of drawings on the table with an intense look of determination. He clutched Kara’s wrist possessively with one hand and scattered pages with the other until he found what he was looking for, letting out a squawk of triumph.

“Here.” Julien croaked in his Yoda-voice, “Make this for you, I did.”

Kara grinned and accepted the gift with a playful little bow—but then wished she’d used that moment to better prepare, to take a deep breath at least because suddenly her throat seemed to close and her vision swam. Julien had chosen blue and black for the monsters this time; large, gangly blobs with several squiggly arms, like the hexapuses Kara had fought the night before. And there in the corner, was a stickfigure of herself in red and yellow. Her mouth was a little too big for the circle of her head and the ‘S’ had been placed to the side of the figure instead of on her chest. But the real kicker was the clunky inscription along the bottom, a few squiggly letters lost in Julien’s green and grey sea, “my mom y is a hero”

Kara had to breathe through her nose for several seconds and swallow several times before she was able to respond, “Wow, honey this—this is great. I love it. Thank you so much.”

Julien nodded, satisfied, and then turned back to his shark drawing with an almost dismissive huff, “ _This_ one is for the dragon lady.”

Kara chuckled and shook her head as she crossed to pin the drawing up on the refrigerator with several other treasures, “Well, I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Julien gave a short croak of agreement as he reached for his green marker, “Maybe if she does, she will stay.”

Kara was so startled, she dropped her mug, and felt any and all sense of peace and contentment shatter along with it.

“Wha—Jules, that’s completely—”

Kara bit back her words when she heard Lena approaching, her pace worried and quick—drawn to the sound of breaking ceramic. She barely had time to brush the hair from her eyes before Lena came rushing into the kitchen, Walter trailing along behind her with wide blue eyes.

“Oh my God—Julien, sweetheart, are you alright?” Lena gasped as she went directly to the child to touch his face and reassure herself that he was not bleeding or damaged in any way.

Julien squirmed under the attention and pointed, “Mom did it.”

Only then did Lena seem to really notice Kara. The breathless flush to her cheeks deepened. “Oh.”

“Mom!” Walter squealed, his eyes lighting up, “You’re all better!”

“Ah, ah, ah—” Lena caught him before he could run into the kitchen, “Watch out for the broken pieces, darling.”

Kara frowned slightly and glanced down at the little pile of broken shards—it hadn’t been a very large cup. The mess hadn’t spread very far. But she supposed she appreciated Lena’s caution—they really shouldn’t take any chances.

“Right, umm, don’t worry, I’ll—clean it up.” Kara proclaimed a little stiltedly, half-starting to float away to get a broom before she remembered that she had invulnerable hands—she _literally_ couldn’t be cut.

“Walter, honey, could you go let Krypto out? I think I heard her whining at the back door.” 

Kara heard Lena ask as she busied herself with picking up every sliver of ceramic from the floor. She glanced up briefly and saw Walter scurrying to obey while Lena ran a hand through her hair and pushed several of the wayward markers closer to the center of the table.

“And what are you working on?” Lena asked the other twin.

“Don’t look!” Julien shrieked, snatching up his picture to hold close to his chest, “It’s not ready yet!”

Lena chuckled and held up her hands as she slid into the chair opposite Julien, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Walter! Jules! Get your butts up here!” An authoritative older voice filtered down from the nursery.

“Okay!” Walter responded cheerily from the depths of the house.

Julien wasn’t so eager. He narrowed his shale grey eyes and glared up at the ceiling.

“What for?!” He demanded.

“Just _come on_!” Was the only response.

Julien’s lower lip stuck out in a grumpy pout as he started to climb down from his chair. He paused before his foot could hit the floor though, and glanced back over to Lena.

“I’ll be back.” He warned and climbed back up so he could turn his drawing over, “ _Don’t_ look.”

Kara padded over to stand beside Lena to watch him scamper off, a fresh mug of coffee in hand.

“He doesn’t mean it unkindly,” Kara pointed out, after the stamp of feet on the stairs had died down. She was almost painfully aware of how the tension had shifted in the kitchen--she could almost feel Lena's disappointment. Maybe she'd just gotten better at reading her--or maybe after sharing a bed for the night, there was a far more intimate connection--Kara shook her head, surprised that she could even think something so ridiculous, “He just wants to impress you.”

Lena sighed and seemed to deflate a little in her chair, “I know.”

And before Kara really had time to think better of it, she had put a hand on her shoulder—for comfort. A reflex.

And Lena covered her hand with her own, keeping her close— _welcoming_ the gesture.

They stayed like that for several moments before Kara cleared her throat and tugged her hand away--that small touch had been _more than enough_ to send her heart soaring to dangerous heights. And to nearly buckle her knees with longing.

 _Rao_ , this was getting so much harder every day--and she absolutely _hated_ that she could almost _feel_ that self-appointed deadline leering at her, a mere six days away. As vague and ominous as ever. A reminder of all she had yet to say--everything she'd put off. She needed to be more careful--she couldn't afford to fall even deeper with the end so near.

But Lena was making that--very difficult.

Kara pushed her glasses up a little further on her nose and busied herself with going to drop her empty mug in the sink. She could feel Lena’s eyes on her—could feel the _expectation_ in the air. Something had changed--there were fewer places to hide now. Fewer avenues for safe retreat.

Kara could feel those knots tightening in her gut--the ones she'd vowed to unravel. It was too early, wasn't it? Couldn't she eat something first?

Kara bought herself a bit more time by opening the fridge—but there was nothing that immediately grabbed her appetite. Everything looked grey and bleak. Even the leftover take-out sparked little interest. Kara's stomach growled--but she hardly felt it.

“So,” Lena hummed, breaking the silence just when Kara was starting to think that maybe it would last forever, “Are you going to tell me what Alex said?”

Kara kept her eyes down as she picked up a pudding cup, then thought better of it and put it back—Alex seemed a relatively safe topic. Kara took a step back and let the refrigerator door close.

“About what?”

But catching Lena's eye again was almost too much--Kara's heart leapt in her throat and she turned back to open the freezer. _Rao_ , she felt like such a coward. Kara took a fortifying breath and squinted, willing herself to look passed the ice cream and paletas for something more substantial, something to put an end to that gnawing hunger.

“You _know,_ ” Lena huffed, clearly impatient, “—about her _date._ ”

“Oh.” Kara grunted, as she tugged a few frozen pizzas free of the icy build-up. “ _That_.”

Lena rolled her eyes—but was smiling. “Yes. That.”

Kara couldn’t really explain the relief she felt—the way the tension suddenly seemed to lift. But she was glad. 

That immense shadow of the Revenge seemed to shrink for a moment, allowing warmth to flood back into her limbs. And she _knew_ it would be back--knew that she would have to face it sooner or later. But it freed up so much _space_ \--in her heart and mind to just choose later.

“Well,” Kara bumped the freezer door closed with her shoulder and turned to the table. She wasn't at all surprised to see that Lena had started putting the lids back on Julien’s markers, and pushing them into a more formative line—red then orange and yellow and green and blue and purple. A tidy rainbow. She relaxed even further, “She said that the flowers worked really well.”

Lena nodded, as if not surprised, “Of course they did. Every woman likes to be wooed.”

Kara eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Oh, they do?”

Lena swept some crumbs off the table, clearing the space where Kara had been headed—she didn’t look up, “Go on. What else?”

Kara swallowed and tried to remember what it was she’d been doing—her train of thought had been a little derailed. Her stomach growled, providing a clue.

She shook herself a little, and took up the first pizza box. 

“Well, she said that by the time Maggie got to leave the police station, all the restaurants were closed, so they went for a drive and went up to Lookout Point.”

Lena lifted her head then, one eyebrow raised, “What’s that?”

“It’s a—well, it’s the best view of the bay. People like to go there to watch the sunrises and sunsets.”

Lena hummed as she watched Kara rip open the plastic packaging for her pizzas—what should have been a _tantalizing_ show of strength ruined _just a little_ by the childish gleam of delight in Kara’s blue eyes. She looked as animated as the boys had when Lena had reminded them that they wouldn’t be going to school today.

She looked away when Kara caught her staring.

“It’s a good make-out spot too, I’d imagine.” Lena said wistfully.

Kara forced herself to laugh—though it came out choked and she had to fiddle with her glasses again as she tried to find the right words, “Uh, well, A-Alex seems to think so.”

Lena smiled, pleased to know that after so much doubt and confusion—Alex had finally gotten something good from her new journey, “I’m glad.”

Her fond expression morphed to one of worry rather quickly, though, “Wait! Kara, what—what are you doing?!”

Kara frowned and glanced around as if making sure there wasn’t another ‘Kara’ lurking around the kitchen that Lena could have been talking to. “Ummm—eating.”

“You’re going to eat the whole thing? _Cold_?” Lena demanded, incredulous.

Kara blinked once, and then slowly started to grin, “Gosh, Lena, you’re right—that doesn’t sound very appetizing at all. Maybe I should…”

Kara paused dramatically and then tugged her glasses down so she could zap the pizza with her laser vision, “…warm it up a little.”

Lena’s jaw went slack as she watched the steam rise, “Oh my god—”

“Do you want some?” Kara offered, tearing off a hunk for herself and watching the cheese ooze and stretch.

“No thank you.” Lena said a little hoarsely as she watched Kara lick the red sauce from her finger. She glanced away to gather herself, shifting a little in her chair, “I have dined.”

“Well, you’re missing out.” Kara informed her, folding what was left of the pizza together, “It’s _out of this world_.”

She winked at Lena, feeling smug.

And then she proceeded to stuff the entire thing into her mouth.

Lena rolled her eyes—but couldn’t manage a scoff. Or any other disgruntled noise for that matter All that she seemed able to vocalize was a soft sigh because Kara was completely _ridiculous_ —with her corny jokes and old-fashioned chivalry and super-human appetite, but—despite all that, or alas, perhaps _because_ of it—Lena found her all the more charming. All the more— _real_.

Because she had to admit—her faith had been a little shaken as she’d watched her _infamous wife_ flying around on last night’s nine o’clock news. There had been a moment of almost overwhelming rage—a kind of bitterness that clogged in her throat and made her want to burn down and _obliterate_ every last vestige of this life she could barely even remember because _not once_ in the nine and a half days that she could remember had Kara ever even _hinted_ that she might not be human—that she might be _something else_. That her history might be even more complicated—even more _painful_ than whatever fairytales Lena could dream up.

And it had stung. To think that there was just _that much more_ she didn’t know about Kara—about her _wife_.

But then Kara had been pulled under the water.

And she’d stayed down for a long time. It had felt like an eternity.

And Lena didn’t even remember if she was religious, but she’d started praying— _begging_ some power beyond her own mortal existence to keep Kara safe. To bring her home. She’d made a vow that if Kara would just come back to her—she would forgive her for every lie. For every little trick and deception she must have used to hide this from her—even the ridiculous ones, like that sham of a ‘bad back’. She could forgive that. She _could_. Because she just _knew_ Kara hadn’t done it to hurt her. If anything—she must have resorted to lying to protect her. She must have known what a shock it would be—and how Lena would see it as a betrayal. As another reason to be wary. So before Kara had even set foot on the threshold—Lena had forgiven her.

But she had reserved the right to be mad.

And Kara had been redeeming herself in Lena’s eyes—little by little. With her tenderness—and earnestness and—all those little things that Lena had already loved about her were starting to shine through again, while at the same time she was getting to see something else—something _new_. The casualness with which Kara used her powers around her now, it—it filled her with a warmth and affection similar to what she felt every time she caught Kara fiddling with her glasses. Or heard her singing in the shower. 

And it just felt—not as if _more_ of the puzzle were being revealed, because Lena was starting to accept that maybe she would _never_ get back what she’d forgotten, but—as if maybe they were _building on_ from what little scraps and pieces she could muster.

Whatever love she had for Kara that had survived that ghastly blow to her head—it was growing. 

“Could we go there sometime?” Lena asked, as she watched Kara preparing her third pizza, “To Lookout Point?”

Kara froze—her mouth going completely dry. There was no mistaking Lena’s tone. No mistaking that look in her eyes—the way they flitted down to Kara’s lips.

_Oh, Rao_

There was a loud crash from the hallway—and never before had Kara been so grateful that she had four unruly boys to command her attention. To offer _distractions_ when she was very near the point of giving in to very selfish desires.

“I’ve got it!” Kara practically shouted as she shot out of her chair. She flew into the hall—and very nearly collided with Miguel.

“Whoa—guys, what’s going on?” 

The boys were everywhere, spinning around her and laughing up a storm—Miguel and Colm were on roller blades and Walter was sitting on a skateboard that Julien pushed with very little accuracy. A sidetable had been knocked over, and several pictures had already been shaken from the walls—Kara had to act quickly to save the clock from a similar fate.

“Watch out!” Colm shouted as he swung his brother’s hockey stick. A wiffle ball went flying.

Kara watched it ping off the wall and bounce into the living room. The boys let out their various battle cries and started after it.

“Alright, alright—that’s _enough_.” Lena suddenly appeared, the look on her face decidedly not pleased. “I’ve already told you once— _no_ skating in the house!”

“Aww, man!” Miguel groaned, shoving his wrestling mask up to reveal his disappointed face.

“But there’s nowhere else to do it!” Colm protested, giving up his fight with Pluto for the wiffle ball.

“Yes, there is, you can take it right outside.” Lena stuck out her foot to stop the skateboard Julien was pushing before it had the chance to collide with the couch. Walter let out a startled ‘oof’ as he tumbled to the side and Lena pulled him up to his feet.

“But we can’t skate in the _dirt_!” Julien drew himself up to his full height to proclaim indignantly.

“Of course not.” Lena agreed simply as she took up the pesky skateboard and herded the boys toward the door, “But anyone can make a ramp—all we need are some cinder blocks and a few sturdy boards.”

“Really?” Colm sounded excited, “You think that’ll work?”

“It’s simple geometry.” Lena dismissed with a wave of her hand, “Kara, won’t you help me—Kara?”

Lena paused, suddenly realizing that Kara was still standing in the hallway—that she had a very peculiar look on her face. Sort of far-off and amazed.

Lena left the boys squabbling amongst themselves in the doorway to take a cautious step toward the _infamous wife_.

“Kara?” Lena ventured. When Kara didn’t respond, she touched her hand. “Kara? Are you alright?”

Kara jolted—but didn’t pull away. And when she focused on Lena, Lena could see that there was something bright and eager in her blue eyes.

Kara was almost buzzing with excitement.

“What if _I_ built the ramp?” Kara asked, her voice trembling with the effort it took not to squeal and shout, “What if I built _more_ than just a ramp?”

Lena’s eyebrow ticked up, but she didn’t interrupt. She could tell this was important—and she wanted to be there. To support Kara however she would let her. With the boys, with her carpentry--with her superhero work too, if Kara wanted it. Lena squeezed her hand gently, encouraging her to share—just a little more. To let her in.

“What if—what if I built it all in the park?" Kara asked almost breathless because her mind was working so fast--she didn't have time to breathe. So many pieces were all _finally_ fitting together--creating a picture that was real and concrete and attainable. Giving her an answer to at least _one_ of her life's great problems. If she could get _this_ right--maybe the rest would follow. She just had to focus on one knot--one _problem_ at a time.

"Ms. Grant said she wanted me to build her an attraction. Well, what if—what if I built a skate park?”


	70. What Could a Luthor Want, I Wonder?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's clunky. And long overdue. But life sucks for so many people right now--and this is all I have to offer. So I hope it helps. At least for a little while.

Winn liked to think of himself as Kara’s oldest friend—even if James had _technically_ known her a little longer. But that was just because he’d had that ‘friend of the family’ advantage from working with Superman for so long. It was basically a disqualification, in Winn’s humble and not-at-all competitive opinion.

But still—Winn had seen Kara through _a lot_. Epic superhero battles and not so super motherhood meltdowns. He had watched her face insurmountable odds and get knocked down _hard_ more than once—and he was proud to say he’d watched her get back up every single time.

He was the one she’d turned to when her cape had been shredded by a biomechanical T Rex— _that_ had been a crazy Thursday—she’d trusted him to fix it. And she was the one he counted on whenever his life was in danger—none of those other superheroes he’d grown up reading about. They were all caricatures. But Kara? She was the real deal.

So seeing her flying around in the old Powergirl suit again had hit Winn with some powerful nostalgia.

He might’ve even teared up a little and for just a moment, let himself daydream about those blissful days in Metropolis.

But he was jolted rather rudely into the precarious present when he found himself face-to-face, once again, with the woman he had helped kidnap and _basically_ enslave—Helena Luthor Lord.

And while Winn hadn’t _really_ expected Lena to just disappear overnight—nothing could ever be that easy—he had at least thought, well, _hoped_ , really, that somehow Kara, his oldest and dearest friend who was a _literal superhero_ —might have found some way to make things right again. With time travel maybe. Or some long-forgotten Kryptonian magic that could restore memories so they could get Helena Luthor back to her family before they took it upon themselves to send in every scary mercenary group Winn had ever heard of to get her back.

(His neck was still a little creaky from looking over his shoulder so much the last few days.)

At this point, he’d even settle for something as arbitrary as a reset button. Just _something_ to make it like the last ten days had never happened. And they could all go back to living their ordinary lives. Without the anxiety and paranoia—or daily _life or death_ emergencies.

But alas.

When Winn found himself back at Kara’s place, answering her SOS text, like a _good friend_ —it was Helena Luthor who opened the door. She was just _there_ —inviting him in and taking his coat and telling the boys to stop wrestling and the dogs to stop barking and offering him lemonade and just— _existing_ in Kara’s space as if she were perfectly at home—which Winn knew technically in her own mind at least, _she was_ , but still—

He was freaking out a little.

Because everyone was acting so—normal. So _calm_.

Even after everything they’d discovered—everything they knew now about _who_ Lena really was.

It was like nothing had changed. Everyone was acting like everything was _fine_. Even _Kara_.

When they _all_ knew it wasn’t.

“It’s weird right?” Winn asked James while Kara’s attention was elsewhere. She was focused on the layouts before her, muttering to herself in Kryptonese like she did when she wanted things to be absolutely perfect. Her movements were stilted and quick, as if she were exerting a lot of effort not to move at super speeds or lift into the air.

Winn hadn’t seen her this excited since the boys’ adoption had been finalized.

“Yeah,” James agreed quietly. He’d been watching Kara too, but his concern didn’t manifest so much in his voice—it was more evident in the slight frown on his lips. 

“Don’t you think—” Winn paused and glanced furtively toward Kara again even though she’d barely glanced up since that initial hello. He lowered his voice even further, just to be safe, “Don’t you think we should say something to her?”

“We already did say something.” James shrugged.

“Yeah, _three days ago_!” Winn squeaked.

James sighed and shook his head, watching Kara sift through her preliminary drawings. It was late afternoon now, and the entire room was bathed in rosy, gold light—which meant Kara looked even more ethereal than usual. Even with a pencil poking out from behind one ear, and her tongue stuck out between her teeth—she still looked incredibly graceful as she lined up a ruler and made her line. She’d even started humming.

“Maybe she’s just waiting for the right moment.” He murmured.

“The right moment!” Winn squeaked, indignation bringing his voice up nearly a full octave, “I think we’re a little past that now, don’t you?!”

James opened his mouth to respond but then shut it again when Helena Lord swept back onto the scene—effectively shifting the point of gravity in the room.

James’s frown deepened.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed since the last time they’d all been together—something _important_.

There was something new in the way Lena held herself—she didn’t flinch away so often anymore. Not from the boys or the dogs or—any of it. Even the way she spoke, no longer so questioning. She had greeted him with a smile that was at least borderline friendly—as if she trusted in a familiarity she couldn’t remember.

But perhaps the most telling—was the way she moved in and out of Kara’s orbit without apology. The way she leaned in close to brush a curl back behind Kara’s ear as if it was the most natural thing in the world—as if she were right at home.

And as troubling as _that_ new development was—there was something else that made James’s throat tighten and his stomach twist uncomfortably—a realization that turned his blood just a little bit cold. 

Whatever had shifted in Lena—it had moved in Kara too.

James could see it—all of the _oh so obvious_ ways that Kara reacted to Lena’s new boldness.

Lena had leaned in to brush that curl away, but Kara had _let_ her—and gave _every indication_ that she welcomed the closeness. If her blushes and wide-eyed stutterings were anything to go by—or the way she immediately had to reach up to adjust her glasses. It was all very telling—all very worrying. 

James shook his head and turned back to Winn—his friend looked as if all the blood had drained from his face. A clear indication that he had noticed all of the courtship signals James had.

“I think we’ve got to leave it up to her.” James said quietly.

“I’ve gotta call Alex.” Winn muttered, choosing to ignore James’s defeatist attitude and get a second opinion. He contorted, reaching for his phone, “She’ll agree with me—”

“This isn’t a democracy, Winn.” James pointed out.

“Well maybe it should be!” Winn snarled back, hurt that his other best friend couldn’t see the danger or worse—just didn’t care.

James just sighed. 

“We all have a stake in this.” Winn insisted, glaring, “and when it blows up—”

“What’s blowing up?” Lucy appeared then, followed by the herd of boys who had let her in at the front door. 

“N-Nothing!” Winn stammered, his eyes blown wide at the prospect of being caught out. He hunched his shoulders slightly when he glanced over at Kara—she was glaring at him.

“We’re blowing something up now?” Miguel queried excitedly. He and his brothers seemed delighted by the prospect. Julien in particular let out a deep-throated cackle.

“Look what you started.” Lucy teased as crossed behind the boys to take the seat on the other side of James. She bopped Winn on the back of the head as she passed, but frowned as she started unzipping her jacket and let her eyes drift around the room, “Where’s Alex?”

Kara seemed startled by that question. Her blue eyes went wide and almost— _guilty_. James noticed the way she bit her lip—the way her eyes darted over to Lena of all people as if looking for help. The uncomfortable knots in his stomach twisted just a little tighter.

“If we’re blowing stuff up, can I light the fuse?” Colm pleaded, his eagerness dissolving the tension immediately.

Lucy’s question went unanswered.

“Please, Mom, can I? Please!” 

“Nope, we’re not doing that.” Lena scolded, much to the chagrin of at least three of the boys. They protested and started dragging their feet immediately, resisting Lena’s attempts to shepherd them toward the far end of the table where they would be less likely to spread that troublesome rash of theirs.

But Walter nodded sagely as if he agreed wholeheartedly with his pretend mother.

“Because it’s too dangerous,” Walter said solemnly.

“Exactly,” Lena cupped his chin and bumped her nose against the toddler’s, making him squeal with delight as she lifted him up onto her hip.

Winn’s eyes were wide as he watched the exchange—he felt as if he’d slipped into some bizarre alternate reality. 

Alex wouldn’t stand for this if she were here. Winn was sure of it.

“Yeah, guys sorry. We’re ahhh, not blowing anything up.” James leaped in to clarify, doing his best to ignore the questioning look Lucy was giving him. He cleared his throat and tried to relax his shoulders, “We’re still just helping your mom with the skatepark.”

“Oh good.” Lucy piped up then, sensing that both James and Winn desperately needed the conversation to move on. She slipped her hand over to squeeze James’ knee under the table as she turned her hazel eyes on Kara, “What do you have so far?”

“Mom! Have you put in any funboxes yet?” Miguel asked as he ducked under Lena’s arm and raced around the table to peer at what his mother had drawn up. Kara just laughed when he jostled the table, and reached out a hand to steady him.

“And escalators too!” Colm chimed in—he seemed happier now that he had a juicebox in front of him. Lena had taken Julien’s away when he got too overzealous with stabbing his straw through the top, and the toddler glared at his older brother with envy. 

“Now hold on—” Winn interrupted, surprised when everyone immediately turned to look at him. He swallowed and glanced away, his shoulders deflating a little as he finally accepted that _this_ was what they had to focus on at the moment. This— _skatepark_ and not—the Luthor woman sitting at the head of the table.

Maybe James was right—maybe this just wasn’t the right moment.

They had been dealing with a lot lately—mind-reading bosses and poison oak and imaginary goons in black vans and hexapuses and whatever— _this_ skatepark thing was. 

Maybe Kara would still come through in the end—

Maybe he just needed to have a little more faith.

Winn blinked over at Colm, clearing his throat, “So ahhh, when you say ‘escalator’, I’m—assuming you don’t mean like the ones that’re always broken over at the ElkSnout mall?”

Julien let out a bark of laughter.

“No way, Uncle Winn!”

Colm laughed too and rolled his eyes exasperatedly, “We want Mom to build us stuff we can actually skate on!”

“Oooh! Oooh!” Walter wriggled and waved his hand in the air.

Kara turned to him, and her smile turned soft. “What is it buddy?”

“Mom, can you put in a pyramid? Please?” The child begged, his shale blue eyes wide and a Danvers pout at the ready on his lips.

Kara honestly would have agreed to bring him the moon if he’d asked.

“Now, hold on a second” Lucy interrupted, leaning forward to get a better view of the map Kara had spread out on the table—it wasn’t official. It was just one she’d been able to print off from the city website while she waited for her friends to arrive. Julien had already scribbled a few angry red faces in the far margin.

“We need to remember that the number of attractions you can squeeze in will depend on the acreage you’ve got to work with.” Lucy said wisely. “How much space is Cat Grant letting you have?”

Kara glanced at James and nodded slightly, “We measured it the other day and allowing for the gazebo and dining pavilion, there’s just under 30,000 square feet left to work with.”

“Wow.” Walter breathed, his eyes wide. “That’s _a lot_.”

“Not really.” Colm sighed, propping his elbows up on the table and dropping his chin into his palms. “That’s smaller than a football field.”

“Aww, but Mom!” Julien whined.

“Yeah, Mom. We want a _big_ one.” Miguel insisted.

Kara chuckled and shook her head ruefully, “I know, buddy, just hold your horses. I wasn’t finished yet.”

Kara took a dark marker and drew a series of ‘x’s on the map. Miguel leaned closer.

“I was already planning to ask for permission to take out a few of the trees here,” Kara explained, “just at the base of the hill to get a better view of the lake, but I’m hoping that— _maybe_ , with a little convincing, Ms. Grant will let me clear out a bit here—”

Lucy craned her head and hummed thoughtfully.

“It looks like a sock.” Winn noted, not really liking the silence—mostly because he kept trying to sneak peeks at Lena Luthor and she had caught him almost every time. When she narrowed her eyes like that—he could _totally_ see the Luthor family resemblance.

“Well, yeah.” Kara shrugged, “I’m thinking we could loop back around to feed back into the walking trail—the first checkpoint is right around there.” Kara tapped the map again, right at the toe of the sock she’d drawn.

“That doesn’t sound half bad.” James mused.

Lucy rolled her eyes, “Don’t listen to him—Kara this sounds _great_. The thing Ms. Grant will probably be most concerned about is the water fowl reserve, but it looks like you’re barely even dipping into the green—”

“I want to preserve the integrity of the park.” Kara said, biting her lip, “but—”

“But we _need_ the pyramid.” Walter reasoned, making everyone laugh.

Kara caught Lena’s eye and felt her heart skip a beat—she had dimples when she laughed. And somehow seeing them spread a warmth through her chest that made it difficult for her to keep her feet on the ground.

She gripped the edge of the table a little tighter, hoping that would help.

“Walt, I promise you, I will put in a pyramid, okay.” Kara grinned in her youngest son’s direction. Her heart leapt all over again when he beamed at her.

“Alright!”

“Okay, but how important is the pyramid, really?” Winn asked, his eyebrows furrowed deeply in confusion, “I mean, is the—the theme ‘Ancient Egypt’ or something?”

Kara frowned and her lips twitched. She hadn’t thought about that. “Oh. Ummm—”

“Yeah, what’s the theme, Mom?” Miguel asked.

“Does it really need a theme?” James asked.

“I don’t think so.” Lena said thoughtfully as she smoothed Walter’s hair, “Themes are more for—amusements parks and put-put golf, yes?”

“I agree with Lena.” Lucy stipulated—and there was only the barest of twinges when she said it. She ignored the appalled look Winn gave her and smiled down the table to the woman whose own coat of pink splotches on her arms and up her neck belied just how well she fit in with the Danvers clan. “The elements should all flow one into the other, but there doesn’t necessarily have to be a theme—”

“But we _could_ have one, though.” Miguel argued, crossing his arms over his chest as if he were preparing to do battle—it was a power pose he’d learned from his aunt.

“Yeah!” Colm agreed immediately. He leaned forward and had to shove his glasses up his nose again, “I liked the Egypt idea.”

“But sweetheart,” Lena began, placating.

“Texas has a skatepark with a ‘fine dining’ theme.” Winn interjected, earning several exasperated looks from the gown-ups—except for Kara. She actually looked wistful—if Winn had to guess, she was probably thinking about potstickers.

The boys at least seemed excited about his discovery, though. Even Julien had perked up.

Winn ignored Lucy’s glare and glanced down at his phone again, “It says a few rails are designed to look like knives and spoons and stuff.”

“See!” Miguel gestured toward his Uncle Winn, “Other places do it!”

“I’m not sure.” Kara hedged, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Yeah, an Egyptian themed skatepark in the middle of _Midvale_?” Lucy sighed. “Sorry guys, I just don’t think it’d go over well.”

“Well, what if it wasn’t _just_ Egypt, though.” Miguel shot back, grasping at straws. “What if—what if it was all kinds of places.”

“Yeah, you know, other foreign places.” Winn agreed, catching on to the boys’ enthusiasm, “Like Sweden. Or China! Or France!”

Julien made a face, “France?”

“ _Mais oui! La Tour Eiffel, comme c’est jolie_.” Lena said casually and then froze, a peculiar look crossing her face, “Wait. Did I—did I just speak French?”

Everyone else around the table had frozen too—the excited smiles were replaced with wide, almost frightened eyes.

Miguel looked to his mother—Kara was holding her breath.

Lena barely seemed to notice—she still looked puzzled. Surprised at herself. “I don’t—I don’t even know how, I—it just came out. But I know what I said. I said ‘the Eiffel Tower is beautiful’, but—how do I know that?”

Lena asked the question aloud, but was clearly speaking to herself. Her eyes were far away, struggling for some explanation, searching for _any_ source of light in the midst of that abominable fog that had taken over her mind. It was shifty and thick, but there was _something_ there, “Can I say anything else? _La ville de paris brúle d’amour_. Yes—I can. I must’ve been to Paris. Kara!”

Lena looked up suddenly, her eyes were bright, “Kara, I—I can speak French! Isn’t that incredible?!”

Kara looked stricken.

She swallowed thickly, but her voice still came out hoarse, “Y-yeah.” 

“Must’ve” Lucy coughed slightly and finished James’s lemonade in one big swallow, “Must’ve been something you picked up in the Navy.”

“The Navy?” Lena repeated, but immediately regretted it because as soon as those bitter and _wrong_ tasting words left her mouth, that dim bit of _something_ that was familiar and smelled like coffee eclairs from the Café Ladurée on the Champs-Elysees retreated back into the fog she’d worked so hard to pry it from. She suddenly felt very hollow—almost empty. Tears filled her eyes and she sniffled.

It took a lot of effort for Kara to take a breath—even more to keep herself from flying to Lena’s side immediately, “Lena—”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Walter said gently, turning so he could wrap his little arms around his fake mother’s neck, “We don’t need a theme.”

“Yeah, it was a stupid idea.” Julien agreed darkly.

“Hey!” Colm glared across the table at his little brother.

Miguel bowed his head with a sigh, “Yeah, he’s right.”

And immediately Colm looked penitent. 

“No, no—you’re very sweet.” Lena laughed, squeezing Walter with one arm while she reached out to cup Julien’s cheek, “I think your theme is a great idea. You know, bringing the outside world to the people of Midvale.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Lucy cleared her throat, “We’ve got, ahh, the Pyramids and we could maybe do something like—Oh! Like the Seven Wonders of the World!”

“What, like the Taj Mahal and the Great Wall of China?” James cocked his head to the side.

“Exactly,” Lucy nodded.

“Oh, uh, Great.” James nudged Winn, trying to get him to participate—to draw attention away from Kara who had gone sullen and quiet.

“Yeah!” Winn’s voice had shot up a little, the way it did when he was trying just a little too hard—but he couldn’t help it. Kara looked crestfallen—all of that rosy glow seemed to have dimmed. She was biting her lip as she gazed at Lena as if she were dreading another disaster—another discovery.

Which Winn didn’t want to think about—because Lena remembering was supposed to be a good thing, right? It would mean—immediate disqualification. Game Over. And a Hard Reset.

It would mean—that they could all stop pretending.

So _why_ did Kara look so sad?!

“Right, but umm, there’s gotta be more than that.” Lucy continued, widening her eyes at James to ask for help.

“What about the Grand Canyon?” Colm asked tentatively.

Lucy snapped her fingers. “Bingo! There we go.”

“Yeah, okay and Stonehenge—maybe?” James suggested, a little unsure. “And umm, The Colosseum.”

“I like that one!” Miguel grinned.

“We’re on a roll now!” Lucy praised, a little too enthusiastically—but the boys didn’t seem to notice. Lucy snapped her fingers expectantly, making a comical face toward the twins, “Come on, guys, _think_! Give me another wonder!”

“I-I don’t know any.” Walter pouted, shrugging his thin shoulders with a sigh.

“Sure you do.” Lena soothed and leaned down to whisper in Walter’s ear.

The toddler’s eyes immediately lit up and he sat up straight so he could take a deep breath—and bellow with all his might, “The Hanging Gardens of Avalon!”

Lena chuckled ruefully, “ _Bab_ ylon, sweetheart.”

Walter looked sheepish and turned his face into Lena’s shoulder to hide a blush. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Lena just stroked his back. “You’re alright.”

“Hey! No fair.” Julien pouted. “I want one too!”

Lena grinned and leaned over to whisper to the other twin. Julien’s shale eyes narrowed, but then he let out a cackle and thumped his chest like a challenge, “Aha! The Lighthouse of Alexandria. Like Aunt Alex!”

The other Danvers boys all agreed heartily, delighted that there was a wonder bearing their beloved aunt’s name.

“Ha! I love it!” Lucy laughed, “How many’s that? Are we almost there? Somebody give me another one! Winn?”

Winn glanced up sharply, not exactly expecting to be dragged back into the conversation at this stage, “Oh, uhh, I don’t know—”

“Sure you do.” James said unhelpfully.

Winn made a helpless gesture, “ _No_ , I don’t. Except for maybe Stevie Wonder.”

Everyone’s laughed—well, _mostly_ everyone.

“Isn’t he that singer—?”

“Yeah, good one, Uncle Winn.”

Winn thought he saw Kara’s lips twitch, but he couldn’t be sure. He was still debating whether or not to count it as a victory when Lena sat forward.

“Well, if we’re going to go that route,” The Luthor woman said dryly, “Might I suggest a nod to the ever impressive—Wonder _Woman_?”

And somehow _that_ was what had Kara smiling again while the boys all started cheering even more enthusiastically than they had before—

And Winn couldn’t help but feel a little stung.

(Even if he couldn’t _really_ blame them because Wonder Woman was pretty freaking awesome. Right up there with Powergirl in Winn’s book.)

“Okay, well that’s great and all, but now we’ve got eight.” Winn harrumphed, immediately killing the excitement in the room.

Lucy frowned, “What?”

Winn hunched his shoulders, not liking that all the eyes in the room were on him _again_.

“Ummm—”

“He’s right.” Colm spoke, sounding thoughtful, “You said we should do the _seven wonders of the world_. But then we got to eight.”

“Yeah, the Pyramids, the Great Wall.” Miguel started counting off. “Stonehenge.”

“And you said the Grand Canyon.” Miguel pointed to Colm. “That’s four. And with the Colosseum and Taj Majal, that’s six already.”

Colm nodded sagely.

“Don’t forget the Gardens of _Bab_ -a-lon.” Walter added, proudly pronouncing each syllable. Lena hugged him a little tighter.

“And mine was Alex’s Lighthouse!” Julien added.

“Which brings us up to eight.” Colm agreed, holding up his fingers as well for reference.

“Okay, well, _maybe_ Stonehenge isn’t one.” James said thoughtfully, holding up a hand in apology, “My bad.”

“They all sounded right to me.” Lena added, biting her lip, “But my memory isn’t—I might have been mistaken.”

“No, no, you were right.” Lucy cut in quickly before Lena could start to spiral. She’d fished her own phone from her pocket and was now squinting at the screen. “We were _all_ right. I guess—I guess there’s more than one list.”

“Really?” James leaned over to see for himself.

“Yep.” Lucy turned her phone to show Colm and the others her screen, “It looks like they’ve divided it up into ancient and modern—and there’s a list of natural wonders too.”

“Oh.” James nodded. “Cool.”

“No Stevie Wonder though.” Lena said wryly after glancing over the small scrawl. She lifted her chin, and her eyes were practically _burning_ , “I guess you and I were both wrong, Winn.”

Winn gulped and glanced away.

“So which ones do we choose?” Colm asked.

All eyes naturally seemed to find Kara—the master carpenter in all this. But the Kryptonian still looked troubled. She managed to shake herself and force a smile when she felt Lena’s eyes on her again.

“Right, well, ahh—that sounds like something we can tackle tomorrow, guys,” She clapped her hands a little nervously, “but for now—it’s ummm, getting pretty late. So let’s wrap it up and sleep on it, okay?”

Immediately Julien puffed up, ready to protest—but Lena was already moving. “I think that sounds like a _wonderful_ idea. Come on, boys. Let’s reapply your calamine lotion and then you can get ready for bed.”

And Kara was surprised by how easily they obeyed. Even Julien. He croaked, of course. Because he was stubborn like that and started rambling about jedi masters needing to negotiate a better bedtime, but he said all that while he trailed along behind Lena— _actually_ following her.

It was kind of wondrous to behold. And made Kara feel a little better.

“So, ahh—” Lucy began tentatively, “When you say ‘wrap it up’, is that—our cue to go too?”

Kara glared—and Lucy fell silent. 

“Look guys,” Kara began in a stern voice—the one she used on bad guys and occasionally her boys when she needed to get a point across, “I appreciate that you all came out to help when I asked, but you _have got_ to watch what you say around Lena.”

“But Kara—” Winn tried to interrupt, but Kara just glared at him too.

“ _I know_ we’re running out of time.” Kara said lowly—she had to force herself to relax her jaw, “I _know that_ , and I know you’re scared Winn—”

“Hey, it’s—it’s not just me, okay.” Winn huffed, indignant that somehow he was on _the outside_ when all he was trying to do was keep everybody focused on what was _really important here_ , “The Luthors have a history of getting their revenge on people.”

“He’s right.” James stepped in, though he sounded reluctant to do so, “There’s a lot at stake here, Kara. We’re just—”

“There was _always_ a lot at stake.” Kara cut in, her blue eyes fierce. She paused as Lena’s laughter trickled down from above where she was romping around with the boys—it made Kara’s heart ache. She knew it was incredibly selfish—to want to hold onto that for just a little longer. But she couldn’t help it.

“Look,” Kara sighed, as she tugged her glasses off and rubbed at her forehead. “I get that you guys are worried about what could happen. I am too, but—you’re not the ones living with her and lying to her face every single day. This—this is on me now.”

James sighed and scooted to the edge of his chair so he could reach out and touch Kara’s shoulder—to offer what little comfort he could.

“Hey, you can’t beat yourself up about that.” James said solemnly.

“Yeah, we—we talked you into it.” Lucy added soothingly.

“Well, _technically_ Alex talked all of us into it before we talked you into it.” Winn muttered.

“ _Winn_.” James warned darkly.

But Kara just snorted and brushed James’s hand away. His gesture felt hollow—she felt like they were all missing the point.

“It doesn’t matter how we got here.” Kara said evenly, the blue in her eyes turning icy and hard, “What _matters_ is that _this_ is where we are now. Lena believes everything we’ve told her. She—she thinks she’s my wife and that—that makes her _my_ responsibility.”

Kara went a little breathless as she said it, as she thought again of how Lena had looked this morning—soft and vulnerable in the morning light. And then when she’d spoken French out of the blue—she’d looked so _lost_. So helpless. 

Lucy saw the pain in Kara’s eyes and looked away. Winn too kept his eyes averted, pretending to be very interested in the buttons of his vest.

Only James kept his eyes on Kara, watching for more signs.

“All I’m asking is that you keep up the charade just a little longer,” Kara sighed, frowning at Winn in particular, “just put in the effort to be— _normal_ for now while I figure out a way to tell her.”

“But you _are_ going to tell her?” Winn demanded, ~~afraid~~ defiant in ways he hadn’t been before.

Kara felt a stab of something cold and terrible right in her chest, poking at all of those knots she’d been trying so hard to ignore—she took a sharp breath. “Of course I am.”

“Really?” Winn prodded.

“Hey.” Lucy frowned, leaning forward to glare at Winn.

“Come on, man. She said she would.” James said sternly, trying to smooth things over.

“Well _I guess_ I just need confirmation,” Winn insisted stubbornly, “since _the last time_ we had a conversation like this I _thought_ we were all on the same page when really—”

“I _will_ tell her.” Kara interrupted darkly—without her glasses, there was nothing to soften her glare, “I just need more time, okay? Can you at least give me that?”

James and Lucy exchanged glances—there was an edge of desperation in Kara’s voice that they’d both noticed, but it was really Winn Kara was appealing to.

Her eyes narrowed when her old friend gave no answer, and instead kept his head turned pointedly away.

“Winn.” Kara’s voice trembled. She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying her hardest not to visualize that “I’m _asking_ you to trust me. We can’t go back and undo what we did, but—one of the _only things_ we can control now is how this ends and—”

Winn had finally looked up, and Kara bit her lip. She could feel her heart lodged in her throat, just pounding and pounding—

“She _has_ to hear it from me.” 

It was like the cusp of a confession, even if she hadn’t said the rest. About how she couldn’t bear the thought of Lena being hurt. That she would throw Winn into the sun if he tried to do just that by sabotaging the Revenge before she was ready—before she’d figured out the best way to tell the truth without breaking Lena completely.

It was quiet for almost a full minute—and the tension was almost unbearable.

Finally, Winn caved.

“Yeah, okay.” He sounded resigned. “You win.”

Kara closed her eyes and took a soft breath, “Thank you.”

James was as shocked as Kara, but he covered it by clearing his throat and reaching for his lemonade glass—he lifted it halfway to his lips before he even realized it was empty. 

Sighing, he set the glass back down and cleared his throat, “Yeah. We’re here for you. Just—don’t take too long.”

Kara snorted and glanced away. 

Lucy rolled her eyes at James and lifted his empty lemonade glass like a toast, “Hell, we’ve come this far. What’s six more days?”

Kara didn’t respond—her throat had gone a little dry when she recognized Lena’s light step on the hardwood—she was coming back down from the nursery. And she had to prepare--had to steel herself against that dread she felt clawing its way up her throat. 

“Oh, is everybody leaving?” Lena asked brightly as she came to stand close to Kara. She raised an eyebrow as she eyed the solemn-looking group.

“Yup.” Lucy spoke up before either of the boys could say something dumb. “But we’ll be back tomorrow to help with the—” She made a vague gesture, “ _Thing_.”

“When do you have to present to Ms. Grant?” James asked as he rose to his feet.

“Monday.” Kara sighed, glancing tiredly back over to the table and her hasty sketches. 

“That’s plenty of time.” Lena soothed, “You’ll be great.”

Kara smiled at her, already feeling warmth flooding her again as Lena ran a hand up her arm. 

“Right well, umm, this was fun.” Winn said far too loudly as he scraped his chair back from the table, “I’m gonna—go do some more research on escalators and soapboxes—”

“Funboxes, Winn.” Lucy corrected. She squeezed Kara’s arm on her way out.

“Yeah, whatever.” Winn grumbled, shoving his hands down deep in his pockets. He waited for the mangy mutts to finish scrambling after his friends before taking his own first shuffling steps toward the exit—and as he passed, he caught Kara’s eye briefly and nodded.

He did trust her. He _did_. With _his life_ even, it was just—

He _really_ hoped Kara knew what she was doing.

“Oh, Winn! Wait!”

Winn almost stumbled over his own feet, but managed to catch himself on the banister. He turned, his stomach dropping well past the floor when he saw Lena Luthor trotting up to him. She was smiling as she proffered his jacket,

“Here. Don’t forget this.”

“Oh, ah, thanks.” Winn reached for his jacket—and let out a strangled yelp when Lena snagged his wrist and pulled him closer, her friendly smile replaced with a dark scowl.

“Listen buster, I don’t know what you said to make Kara so upset,”

“I-I ahh, I didn’t say anything!” Winn tried to interject.

Lena raised an eyebrow in derision—and Winn’s tongue failed him.

“Maybe you think that because I’ve suffered a head injury my powers of perception have diminished,” Lena continued, her green eyes somehow growing even more sinister with just the slightest curl of her lip, “but I can assure you, Winsham, that I am not, _nor have I ever been_ , completely stupid.”

Winn made a series of unintelligible gulping sounds, struggling to come up with a safe way to respond. He didn’t even dare try to correct her on the mispronunciation of his name.

“So _whatever_ it is that you need to fix,” Lena said darkly, leaning so close that Winn could see that green vein in her forehead pulsing beneath a smear of pink calamine lotion, “ _whoever it is_ that you need to call to help you remove your head from your anal sphincter, I _strongly_ suggest you take care of it before stepping foot in this house again. Because _otherwise_ —I will do it for you.”

Winn’s palms had started to sweat, “O-okay. Sure.”

“Good.” Lena smiled sweetly and gave Winn a little push toward the door, “Have a nice day!”

Winn stepped out onto the porch, his movements mechanical as he tried to wrap his head around all of this—and grapple with the fact that he was supposed to have a nice ‘day’ even though the sun had set.

But he stumbled to a stop when he heard the screen door slapping open again.

“Oh, and Winn?”

Winn turned—the blue light on the porch had been turned on, and Lena looked ghostly pale. The dogs were howling and barking from inside as they leapt up at the door behind the Luthor woman, rattling the door ominously. Lena’s eyes were still blazing.

“Don’t think for _one minute_ that I will go easy on you just because we dated in high school. It will take _a lot_ more than amnesia to make me forget where my loyalties lie.”

Winn nodded mutely and then turned to take the final steps to the SUV where James waited. He could feel Lucy watching him questioningly from her truck. But he didn’t deviate—he climbed into the passenger seat beside James and buckled his seat belt.

“So?” James sounded uneasy, “What’d she say?”

“Oh, you know—just your typical Luthor threat of bodily harm if she doesn’t get what she wants.”

James frowned.

“And…? What does she want?”

Winn let out a deep breath, all the fight he thought he’d ever had deflating all at once.

“For Kara to be happy.”


	71. Day 11: Teamwork

By Saturday morning, all four Danvers boys were deemed well enough to be deputized as Kara’s personal apprentices—that pesky poison oak rash had mostly cleared up.

For everyone but Lena.

And Lena didn’t know which of her parents (vague and nameless concepts though they may be in her temporarily amnesiac mind) was responsible for her apparent deficiency in fighting off skin rashes—so she simply chose to curse them both.

She cursed them as she lathered herself up _yet again_ with that ghastly calamine lotion. She wasn’t in any _pain_ really, it was just—inconvenient. Frustrating. That she had to do _another_ load of laundry full of pink smeared sheets and pink smeared clothes. _Unfair_ that she was stuck pacing on the porch, waiting anxiously for Kara to touch back down safely—because _apparently_ being an apprentice to Kara Danvers the _infamous wife_ /master carpenter meant that the boys got to fly halfway around the world with their Kryptonian mother to ‘scout the wonders’ that were supposedly going to be incorporated into Kara’s big skatepark project. Which was an activity Lena had only agreed to because Kara had spent _all night_ at the drawing board and had refused breakfast which was even more alarming than the fact that Lena had woken up to a cold bed--and so Lena had suggested they all take a break and get some fresh air.

She'd had no idea Kara would take it so _literally_ \--and shoot up into the atmosphere where the air was probably the freshest. And coldest.

Not that Lena would know.

Since she was stuck on the porch, worrying and fretting with her heart in her throat and her stomach in knots while she scanned the skies for the by now familiar form of the _infamous wife_.

_Maybe_ she could’ve found it in her heart to forgive Kara if she didn’t look so damn smug every time she landed and looked pointedly in Lena’s direction as if to say, _See. We’re back. Did you miss me?_

She was _insufferable._

Lena was a little comforted by the fact that Walter had been chosen to give Lena updates every half hour or so. He would come running across the yard with Kara’s phone clutched tight in his hand, eager to show her the pictures Kara had snapped with Miguel in front of the Colosseum in Rome, and the ones she’d taken hovering just over the Grand Canyon with Colm. And of course, Walter’s favorite was the series of photos he’d taken with Kara at the Pyramids of Giza—Walter was grinning just over Kara’s shoulder, clinging to her back like a monkey and pointing excitedly to the great monuments in the distance in the first few, but then he’d apparently wriggled free to go examine a camel. There were several pictures of him stroking the large animal’s nose. And staring up in wonder at the Great Sphinx.

But every time Lena started to feel _just a little bit_ soothed—Walter would dart off again, to wait impatiently for his turn to come again. And then her wife was lifting the next laughing boy up onto her back, and barely even pausing to make sure everybody was secure before taking off like a canon-blast.

And Lena was left pacing and cursing every second that her wife spent in the air.

It didn’t help that Walter looked a little guilty when he came over to update her after Julien’s little adventure—all of _his_ pictures were slightly out of focus. Apparently, her son had tried for a swan dive over Niagra Falls, and every photo that Kara had attempted after that had been made with one arm wrapped very tightly around Julien’s waist.

Lena had been _very_ tempted to put her foot down after that.

To _ground_ every single one of them.

 _Especially Kara_.

But—they all looked as if they were having such a marvelous time. And she knew it was well-deserved. Desperately _needed_ , really, after the stress and _tension_ of the last few days—well, maybe more like the last _eleven_ days, but who was counting? And it made her glad, to hear the boys laughing and excitedly sharing stories of their mini-vacations rather than their usual shouting and cursing—well, _glad_ and riddled with envy.

Oh, how she cursed the _Toxicodendron diversilobum!_ And her parents--for not giving her sufficient immunity.

Although, Lena started cursing them a _lot less_ around noontime when Kara finally touched back down in the yard for the last time--ready to return to the sunroom and the grindstone. Refreshed and re-invigorated. 

Because while Lena found it _incredibly_ unjust that she hadn’t gotten her chance to cling to Kara’s broad shoulders for a fun little field trip of her own—she did enjoy the view of her _infamous wife_ , windswept and sunkissed striding across the lawn—right to her.

She enjoyed it _a lot_.

Enough that she even started to think that _maybe_ rather than cursing—her time would be better spent praising whatever gods had stitched together this alien that she had married.

“Hey.” Kara called as she approached and leaned against the rail, directly below where Lena stood on the porch, “How’re you feeling.”

She was wearing a simple cotton v-neck today. It was a purple that should not go _at all_ with the pastel pink shorts she was wearing, but—somehow it all worked. Her blue eyes and tousled curls—even the light sheen of sweat along her collarbone. And her calves. _God_ , every time she’d squatted to lift one of the boys up on her shoulders before take-off, Lena had wanted to swoon.

Lena’s nostrils flared.

“Still itchy.”

Kara chuckled and tilted her head slightly, “I’m sure it’ll go away soon.”

Lena had her doubts.

It seemed a curse of the Goolihy name, that she should remain always miserable, even on the cusp of happiness. Even with the recent— _improvements_ , she supposed she could call it, in the marital department—being so much closer to Kara, Lena still felt as if there was _something_ keeping her from that perfect bliss, whether it be her amnesia, her devious sister-in-law, that hateful poison oak, or Kara’s own damn chivalry—she always seemed to fall a little short.

Was always kept back. _Just shy_ of the edge.

When _all_ she wanted to do was take the plunge—though, perhaps she should rethink that metaphor, given Julien’s recent antics.

“Did you see all you wanted to see?” Lena asked, needing to distract herself just as much as she wanted to keep Kara here with her—on the ground.

“Yeah,” Kara sighed, rolling her neck from side to side, “It’s really sad that so many of those wonders are just ruins now. The ancient ones anyway. Walter was really disappointed that all we could find of the Gardens of Babylon were a few paintings of what they might have looked like.”

“Not everything is meant to last.” Lena said with a shrug, “Do you think you’ll stick to the modern list then? Or try for the natural wonders?”

Kara rubbed at her neck, smiling as she watched the boys playing with the dogs—Krypto was a champion in both fetch and tug-of-war, but Pluto was still struggling with a few key aspects. The twins had taken it upon themselves to show him how it was done. Walter had even gotten down on all fours.

“I don’t know…” Kara chewed on her bottom lip, “Miguel was really impressed with the Taj Mahal.”

“Well, it _is_ a rather stunning piece of architecture.” Lena pointed out. She couldn’t stop herself from brushing Kara’s curls back over her shoulder—they were _so_ soft. “And a beautiful testament to love.”

Kara’s breath caught as her eyes locked with Lena’s—and everything seemed to go still for a long moment. It was probably the tenth time she’d thought about kissing her today.

And from the way Lena was looking at her—she thought _maybe_ Lena was thinking about it too.

But she couldn’t be sure.

“Oh, I almost forgot—” Kara suddenly jolted and her cheeks tinged a deep shade of pink. Lena watched her curiously from the porch—watched as she fumbled and stammered and patted at each of her various pockets until she finally produced something that flashed in the sun.

Kara glanced up then to give Lena a sheepish smile before floating up a few inches so she could dangle whatever this newfound treasure was in front of Lena’s face, “Walter thought we should get this for you.”

Lena blinked a few times, but eventually recognized the miniature Eiffel Tower hanging on the silver chain. 

“Oh, Kara.” Lena’s throat seemed to close up—she couldn’t remember a more perfect gift, “That’s—so sweet. Thank you.”

She accepted the trinket reverently, taking a sharp breath when her fingers brushed Kara’s.

Kara beamed and self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest, “I’m ummm, glad you like it.”

 _I don’t just like it_ , Lena almost said, _I love it. I love you_ —but was spared by Colm’s abrupt appearance.

“Hey, Ma! Will you come spray us?” Her son was out of breath—and his glasses were suspiciously splattered with water droplets.

Lena frowned and turned to see that while she had been _distracted_ her children had found a way to incorporate the water hose into their shenanigans.

Miguel was chasing the twins across the yard. He held the hose over his head and spun it like a lasso, sending water flying in all directions, pelting both the twins and the dogs who seemed to be enjoying this new game just as much as the boys.

“You seem to be doing a pretty good job of it yourselves.” Lena said dryly. 

“Aww, come on, Ma!” Colm pleaded.

“We promise to be good!” Julien added—though the way he cackled at the end of it made it impossible for Lena _not_ to doubt his sincerity.

“Hey!” Walter called, abandoning his brothers to come trotting up to the porch to the grown-ups, his shoes squelching with each and every step he made, “You got my necklace!”

Lena’s scowl immediately disappeared as she focused on her youngest son. 

“Yes, thank you.” Lena chuckled. “It was very thoughtful of you, sweetheart.”

“Will you put it on?” Walter begged.

Lena blinked, “Oh, umm—”

“Here, let’s just—” Kara stepped up then, and snagged Walter by the waist. She hovered a few feet off the ground, bringing Walter up to sit on the rail. Lena gave her wife a questioning look, but Kara just grinned broader as she reached out to take back the necklace.

“Now go on, turn around.” Kara coached. She even twirled her finger, _as if_ Lena was incapable of following simple instructions without the assistance of such a frivolous visual aid.

“Yeah, Mom. Turn around.” Walter echoed.

Lena huffed, but finally did reach up to sweep her hair to one side as she turned—she shot Kara one final glare.

“Okay, now, we’ve gotta be gentle.” Kara murmured into Walter’s ear as she unclasped the necklace and helped him drape it over Lena’s head—the chain was fairly long, but she helped guide his hands anyway.

Walter fumbled with the clasp a few times, his hands were still wet, but Lena managed to remain perfectly still. Her heart was pounding furiously and it was maddening—to know Kara was so close. To feel her breathing _literally_ down her neck. It sent a number of shivers down her spine.

But Walter’s excited squeal once he’d gotten the necklace secured was enough to keep her grounded.

Lena turned to find the youngest twin beaming up at her with a toothy grin.

“There! You look so pretty!” He exclaimed.

“You think so?” Lena countered with a chuckle as she leaned forward to kiss his temple. Her eyes flitted briefly to Kara.

The _infamous wife_ was still floating several feet off the ground, her elbows resting on the rail on either side of Walter with her head cocked to the side—her blue eyes piercing. Lena saw Kara swallow—watched her wet her lips.

“Always.” She said.

And it _shouldn’t_ have struck Lena so deeply—shouldn’t have made her heart flutter. Because she was still covered in that bright pink calamine lotion and none of her _better fitting_ clothes were clean so she was once again borrowing from Kara’s stock of old sweatshirts and she hadn’t even bothered with her hair this morning so she _knew_ she looked _even less_ put together than your typical mother of four and it was just a little thing—the necklace. Walter’s admiration. Kara’s smile.

But it was enough—maybe just for this moment—to tip her over the edge into pure happiness.

So it was only natural, that her other children would choose _right then_ to remind her of their existence by turning that damned water hose in her direction. The water fell over them like a shock of cold—quite literally dousing whatever sparks had been flying for a grand total of five seconds.

“Hey!” Walter shrieked, ducking down to use Kara as a shield.

Lena took a startled step back—but still felt a whip of water hit her shoulder and side. Kara got the brunt of it though—all along her back and shoulders.

“Ugh! Guys—what was that for?” Kara demanded, lifting a hand as if to ward off the torrent.

“Sorry.” Colm laughed—clearly _not_ sorry at all.

“We just want Ma to spray us.” Miguel admitted.

The yard had become a proverbial mud-pit, though the worst of it was confined to a low spot in the yard—where all three boys happened to be congregated. They had sunk down to their ankles in it. And the thought of the mess they’d make of her clean floors made Lena’s eye twitch.

“Alright, well—” Kara sputtered, shaking out her shoulders and trying to ignore the cold that was sliding down her spine and seeping into her muscles, “ _that_ can be arranged—”

Kara took a menacing step toward the boys—but she froze when they made a series of disapproving noises.

“No, not _you_!”

“Yeah, Mom. We want _her_!”

“Send us the dragon lady!”

Kara’s mouth fell open. She was so shocked she didn’t really react when Lena touched her arm. She hadn’t even noticed that Lena had come down from the porch. Walter was still perched on the rail, leaning forward and then back, swinging a little precariously. 

“It’s alright.” Lena told Kara gently, “You go inside and dry off—I’ll handle them.”

“ _Yes_! Come on, Ma!” The boys egged on.

Kara opened and closed her mouth—doing her very best not to feel stung that her _own children_ had chosen Lena over her.

“But I--you’re sure you don’t want—backup? Or something?” Kara asked haltingly, chewing on her bottom lip.

Lena had to choke back a snort and raised an eyebrow at the _infamous wife_ , “ _Right_. Because you were so _instrumental_ in preventing that awful pillowfight the other night?”

Kara’s eyes went almost comically wide, “Wha—that was—I didn’t—”

“ _Mom_ ,” One of the boys interrupted loudly, sending another arc of water toward the porch that sent Walter diving for cover, “Are you gonna get us or not?!”

“Alright, _that’s it_.” Kara huffed, tearing her eyes away from Lena’s amused and _burning_ green eyes to scowl at her impatient offspring, “ _Every one_ of them is gonna get it.”

“Oh, stop your blustering, darling.” Lena laughed, reaching out to grab Kara’s bicep again, “We both know you’ll never punish them.”

Kara frowned—it was difficult to keep up her scowl when Lena’s fingers were fanned over her arm like that. And she _swore_ she felt her squeeze a little—

“You…” Kara chewed on her bottom lip, “You don’t think I can do discipline?”

Lena shook her head, still smiling, “Of course not.”

“But I—” Kara’s eyebrows slowly ticked closer together. She was still a little too preoccupied with Lena’s lips to think clearly—to construct a more solid argument, “I—I can punch through walls. And—catch bullets.”

“And that’s _great_.” Lena emphasized, squeezing Kara’s bicep just _one more time_ to remind herself how rock solid it was— _God_ , Kara was ripped. Lena swallowed thickly and had to work _very_ hard to keep her voice even, “For fighting _bad guys_. But I think our children require a more delicate touch.”

Kara blinked slowly—trying to decide if Lena had dropped her voice like that on purpose.

Lena smiled sweetly and patted Kara’s shoulder, “Besides, don't you have a _very important_ presentation to get ready for?”

Lena turned back toward the yard—Julien had wrested the hose from his older brothers and had been tackled in the mud. She knew he was fine though. He was cackling maniacally.

“You can leave it to me, darling." Lena muttered, squaring her shoulders, "I’ll give them _exactly_ what they asked for.”

“Me too?” Walter begged from where he’d materialized at Lena’s side. He lifted his arms up—asking to be held.

“ _Of course_ , you too.” Lena smiled. It was almost second nature to her now, to heft Walter up to her. His weight was familiar and comforting. “I would _never_ leave out my favorite minion.” 

Walter grinned and hugged Lena’s neck.

“Ummm, Lena?” Kara choked out, still flustered and trying to sort out the powerful coils of frustration growing tighter and tighter in her belly--she was just glad she'd recovered enough to form coherent sentences. “Isn’t umm, ‘minion’ something a—a villain or evil genius would say?”

Lena ignored her.

If the _infamous wife_ got to have apprentices, Lena deserved a minion or two.

“Your mother doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Lena confided in Walter as she made her way across the yard—doing her very best to skirt the mud and standing water.

Kara heard her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and floated along behind Lena,

“Okay, well—I’m pretty sure I _do_ know because I _have_ actually fought an evil genius or two.” She muttered.

And Lena _would_ have chastised her— _would_ have told her to shut up and go inside to clean up, but—even when she was sulking, Kara was just too cute. Especially with her little pout and crinkle.

So Lena allowed it. 

Even if having a blonde Kryptonian floating over her shoulder kind of robbed her of the element of surprise.

“Oh, look! Ma’s coming!” Colm announced—and immediately Pluto started barking. He had clearly been in the mud too. His sandy fur was dark and splotched.

But Krypto, clearly the _wiser_ of the two mutts, had disappeared under the porch long ago, preserving her creamier colored coat.

“Aw _shit_!” Miguel cursed—and flailed, sending a wayward arc of spray in Lena’s direction. 

He would have gotten her too, if Kara hadn’t used her superspeed to dive in front of Lena and take the brunt of the attack— _again_. 

Lena did her best not to flinch as Kara moved at _impossible_ speeds again to pluck the hose from Miguel’s hand. She had to work _very_ hard to keep her heartrate under control—because Kara was standing there now, smug and grinning with the hose in her hand and the boys looked so pitiful—they hadn’t even had time to react.

“Alright.” Lena said sternly, leveling a glare at her sopping wet sons, “You wanted to be sprayed—now line up.” 

Julien popped up from the other side of Pluto--his face almost completely caked in mud.

“That’s not fair!" He pouted, "You ganged up on us!”

“Yeah, we did.” Kara snorted, lifting her chin—but also catching Lena’s eye almost shyly, “Because we’re a _team_. A good one.”

Lena rolled her eyes to mask how greatly the words affected her—she was sure Walter could feel it though, the way her heart had started skipping, “Yes. Fine. Whatever. Boys, _line up_.”

Miguel and Colm exchanged glances, still wary, “Line up where?”

Lena held out her hand to Kara for the hose as she let Walter slide down to the ground. “Oh, anywhere on the grass will do, really.”

“You heard your mother.” Kara said pressing her fists into her hips to bolster her sterner aura, “Line up over there.”

Lena caught herself staring—at Kara standing like that in the classic superhero pose, still in her glasses and everyday clothes. She thought it was incredibly endearing, to see all the ways Kara's heroic code was so entrenched in who she was as a person. The way it crept into her mannerisms and even the way she spoke sometimes--

Lena had to give herself a slight shake—to focus on the task at hand.

She gave the boys another moment to clamber out of their mud-pit before she readied the hose,

“Arms out.”

Julien shrieked and ran as soon as the water blasted him, Pluto was right on his heels.

But Miguel and Colm both grinned and spread their arms wide, accepting the onslaught happily.

“Alright!”

“Hell yeah!”

“Don’t get any ideas.” Lena warned when Colm darted forward as if he might make a grab for the hose, “This all serves a purpose. Julien! Get back here!”

“Don’t worry!” Kara saluted, “I got him!”

Lena turned her attention back to her older boys—they stood still for the most part, shoving a little and laughing as she rinsed the grass and mud from their legs, much more cooperative now that they'd gotten what they wanted.

“Hey, Ma,” Colm grinned, reaching out to snag his brother’s arm for balance while Lena rinsed away the clods of mud from between his toes, “Did you know that Mount Everest isn’t _actually_ the tallest mountain on Earth?”

Lena paused for a moment in her work and lifted her head to squint up at Colm, “No, I did not know that.”

“It is too.” Miguel scoffed. There was mud still splattered generously across his shirt, but he crossed his arms over his chest anyway, “Everybody knows that.”

Lena almost lost her balance when the ground shuddered—Kara was back.

“I got him!” She announced proudly and held Julien aloft as if she needed to prove it.

“Lemme go!” The toddler roared, “I _like_ being muddy!”

Lena grimaced—she could believe it. Julien was perhaps the most unrecognizable of her offspring—she doubted she would _ever_ get his shirt to resemble yellow again. 

Walter tugged on Lena’s her sleeve to get her attention and wordlessly held out his arm. Although he’d missed out on most of the mud-wrestling, there was a small clod of mud clinging to his elbow. She rinsed it away—still marveling at how little evidence there was of the poison oak that had looked so red and painful just yesterday.

“You’re so full of it.” Miguel snapped at his brother, still completely absorbed in their debate, “Mount Everest is the tallest mountain, period.”

“But that’s only true if you count what’s _above_ sea level!” Colm insisted.

“How _else_ would you count it?” Miguel demanded, scowling.

“There _are_ underwater mountains, sweetheart.” Lena said gently, feeling she should interject before the two boys tackled each other down into the mud again.

“Really?” Walter asked, his grey-blue eyes wide.

Lena glanced down at him and smiled as she playfully let the water fall over his feet. Her younger son giggled.

“Yep. They’re called seamounts.”

“Exactly!” Colm exclaimed, wriggling just like Kara whenever she got excited. Lena slid her eyes over to the _infamous wife_ briefly—just to reassure herself she was still there.

“There’s this mountain in Hawaii that goes up to 13,796 feet above sea level…but then goes down like—19,700 feet too. That’s over 33,500 feet!” Colm shook his head in amazement, but then looked pointedly at his older brother, puffing out his chest a little as he pushed his glasses more firmly up on his nose, “And Everest is just about 29,029 feet tall. That means it's _less_.”

Miguel just shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at the sky, “Still not as cool as the Taj Mahal.”

“I think it’s _very_ cool, honey.” Lena said quickly, reaching out with her free hand to squeeze Colm’s shoulder and give her son her most sincere smile, “ _Really_. It is. Very fascinating stuff.”

And then she turned _just enough_ to glare over her shoulder at the _infamous wife_ , “And I certainly hope your mother didn’t take you to the peaks of _either_ of those very tall mountains _without consulting me first_.”

Kara very nearly lost her grip on Julien as she flushed and instinctively reached up for her glasses, “Wha—no, I-I—of course we didn’t—I would never take them that high into the atmosphere—”

Lena sauntered toward her, both the hose and her most unrelenting scowl at the ready.

“Alright. It’s your turn.”

Kara’s eyes went wide and she actually took a step back, “But Lena—"

Lena ignored her and kept her eyes on Julien, as she gestured to his brothers, all still sopping wet but glistening and most importantly, _clean_ , “Look, everybody else is clean and ready to go inside—you can’t be muddy all the time, sweetheart.”

“Why not?!” Julien demanded, still so stubborn.

“Well, for one thing, you’d get mud everywhere.” Lena reasoned calmly, she shifted slightly where she stood—she didn’t like the feel of the ground going soft beneath her feet where the water fell, “All over the floors and on your sheets—do you want to get mud on the kitchen table?”

“Yes!” Julien growled.

“But then where would we eat?” Lena asked exasperatedly.

“We could eat in the bunker.” Walter suggested sagely from a safe distance. Miguel told him to shut up.

“Hey.” Kara warned, “Be kind to your brother.”

Lena was still focused on Julien—on reasoning with her most obstinate son—the one who hated her the most.

“Where would we eat, Julien?" Lena asked again, practically kneeling so she could look into Julien’s face. "Where would you sleep if you got mud all over everything?” 

“I don’t know!” Julien admitted grudgingly.

“And what about all of your drawings?” Kara added, taking Lena’s lead. “How can you keep making all those beautiful pictures if you’re covered in mud?”

Julien seemed to consider this for a moment. His frown deepened.

Lena took a breath and held it—she could practically see the little cogs and wheels turning in Julien’s mind as he thought it all over. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, Jules? Are you going to stay out here and be muddy or come inside and have lunch with the rest of us?”

“Get him!” The older boys encouraged.

“Get him, Ma!”

“Spray him!”

Lena held up a hand, asking for silence, and kept her eyes on Julien’s face. “Well?”

“Come on, Jules.” Kara encouraged.

Julien’s grey eyes were dark with indignation, but he finally let out a loud huff and went pliant in Kara’s grip.

“Okay.” He croaked, glaring.

“Okay? Okay, what?” Kara pressed, giving her son a slight shake.

“Okay I want to be clean!” Julien roared.

His brothers all cheered and Kara grinned. She looked up to shoot Lena a bright smile, “See?! We _do_ make a great team.”

Her enthusiasm filled Lena’s chest with warmth—so much that it was almost _painful_ not to smile back.

But somehow Lena found the strength to ignore that little thrill that raced down her spine from just _knowing_ that Kara wanted them to be a united front—that she wanted them to be partners and work together.

She kept her expression neutral.

“Yes, darling. You’re absolutely right.”

Lena cleared her throat and readied the hose, “Could you, ah—hold him still, please.”

Because as beautiful and sunny and awe-inspiring as the _infamous wife_ clearly was--she was still insufferable. And reckless. And unforgivably _unattainable_. Which meant she deserved to be punished. Just a little. 

“Yeah, sure thing—wait.” Kara’s eyes went comically wide--clearly realizing too late that she was still very much in the line of fire. She squealed when the water came, and sputtered and held Julien out away from her body as best she could.

But Lena was ruthless.

"Lena!"

Lena’s lips twitched up into a smirk, “It’s called ‘taking one for the team', darling.”


End file.
